


Forget Me Not

by geniusincombatboots



Series: The Doctor's Romance [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 12:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 64,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13764459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geniusincombatboots/pseuds/geniusincombatboots
Summary: Julian said that he felt as if he had known her for years. What if he had? When the news of the plague begins to spread, Julian and Asra are put under immense pressure to find a cure. A palace maid finds herself more involved than she could have anticipated.





	1. Poor Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> I'll admit that I'm relatively new to the Arcana fandom, and I am more than certain that the actual canon and pasts of all characters will contradict this story. While inspired in part by what we know so far, I've taken liberties with some aspects to make the story work.  
> I'm always open to comments, but please bear in mind that this is not to be taken too terribly seriously. It is also a work in progress.  
> The MC representative is my own character, and as such is the only one I own.  
> I hope you enjoy!

It is regarded as a fact that there are few people better qualified to gossip than domestic servants, since they know every facet and change in a house’s life.

If you were to ask any of the maids that worked in the Count’s palace if there was any validity to that concept, they would have said no, like anyone else that wanted to keep their jobs. That would have of course been a lie.

The two girls in their matching red dresses hurried down the corridor, baskets of pomegranates on one arm, cleaning supplies over the other.

“Oh, did you hear?” asked Selena a delicate freckled girl with coppery blonde, “there’s supposed to be plague in the city.”

“Really?” asked the other, Zenia. She was shorter with black-blue hair and silver spectacles on her nose. Her brow furrowed, “My god… how many have taken ill? Do they know yet?”

“Not as far as I’ve heard,” Selena replied, “But apparently quite a few. It seems like the Count has done his best to keep it quiet."

A door opened and a cluster of courtiers walked out from a drawing room, laughing loudly. The maids stepped out of the way, reflexively, backs to the wall, and eyes downcast. They remained silent as the courtiers, their social betters, passed them without a glance.

“That’s good luck,” Selena said, peering into the now vacant sitting room, “It's on my list. And the bedrooms on the third floor of the east wing.”

“I just have the library left to do, but I'm sure there'll be more after lunch. I'll come and check in on you, and help with the bedrooms,” Zenia adjusted the basket of fruit on her arm.

“I don’t envy you,” Selena smirked, “all those shelves. It takes you forever to get done in there.”

“Must be done,” Zenia smiled, glancing over her shoulder, “And I should get in there while it’s lunch time. It’s easier to clean when it’s empty,” she started backing away down the hall.

Selena laughed, "Oh, yes, I forget about the droves of velvet clad bootlickers clamoring for edification. Do me a favor don’t read too long, dear? If I have to get through all of those rooms on my own, they'll have to carry me out on a stretcher.”

Zenia made a face at her friend and hurried along to the open door of the library, a smile warming her face as she looked down the shelves of the room to make sure no one was there to see her before she picked a book off of a shelf, and flipped through it. It was an account of the crew of a ship lost in foreign lands. She started reading, refilling the fruit bowls on the desks in the study alcoves.

The Count adored pomegranates and insisted they be placed in each room so that people would remember their loyalty to him. Preposterous, in her opinion, but she wasn’t paid for her opinions. They would go off in a few days, so the Count's household spent untold amounts on refreshing the rare fruit that went mostly uneaten by the well-to-do of his court.

Hardly anyone used the library from what she could tell, except for the Count’s doctor. The desk that sat in permanent use in the far alcove was forever covered in papers and books. She was supposed to put back any books left out, since she was one of the few palace maids that could read well enough to organize the shelves, but the books spread over the desk also seemed to have a constant, and ever changing stream of paper strips marking pages, and she couldn’t ever bear to move them beyond tidying the space.

She marked her page when she came to the alcove in question, and looked over the harried mess of papers and did her best not to be annoyed when she found bottles and the red fruits skin under the desk. She tossed them in the now empty fruit basket, and tried to remind herself that she was lucky to have a place at all. The alternative was working her aunt at her shop, an idea that unsettled her a bit. Since her parents had died, her aunt had taken her in, and near smothered her with constant… it wasn’t quite praise… What was the word for it.

There was a new spread of papers on the desk, and she glanced over them as she wiped down the desk and books, stacking them in neat organized stacks by their themes. There was a detailed picture of something she didn’t recognize, but resembled a set of complex, correlated labyrinths. That couldn’t be what it was. Every other drawing that was ever on the desk was anatomical in nature.

Normally she would try to straighten them out, organize them and put them in the leather folio in the desk drawer, but she wasn’t sure what this one should be categorized as. She leaned her hip against the desk, turning the paper one way then the other. The doctor's chicken scratch was impossible to read. It made her smile, the proof of the old adage about doctor's and their illegibility.

“Pardon me, but can I help you?” asked a voice suddenly shattering the quiet.

Zenia started, knocking the wooden fruit bowl and a stack of books to the floor, “Pardon me, doctor,” she dropped the paper and stooped down to pick up the pomegranates from the floor. She glanced up at the doctor as he stooped to carefully collect the books, trying to be sure his places had been kept.

He looked at her carefully as she stood up, stacking the books back in their order, before setting them down deliberately, “Are you the one that has been cleaning up here?”

“Yes, sir,” she bobbed, smiling, “I’m supposed to be putting everything away, but it didn’t seem right since you’re still using everything.” She kept her trained, polite smile. Every time she had ever seen him, his face had been comprised of a calm indifference, but there was something different about his countenance. Something harder in the set of his shoulders and his jaw.

He hummed distractedly, “And I was hoping there was a librarian.”

“Far as I know we’ve never had one.”

"Oh, you look a bit like one, a librarian, I mean."

Zenia started to open her mouth to ask what on earth that meant, when she noticed a stranger to the palace come into the alcove over the doctor's shoulder, “sir," she gave him a small smile. She felt comforted by his witness.

Doctor Devorak’s frown intensified, “This is Asra. He will be using this space as well…” He stood up straighter, staring down at her. There was something disorienting about someone being that tall.

She turned to the other, Asra, sensing his magic immediately, “Hello, sir.”

“Aren’t maids meant to keep out of the way?” Devorak asked before Asra could say anything.

Zenia’s ears burned with indignation, “I think we’re meant not to be rude, doctor.” She pulled her lip into her mouth to bite it before she said the rest of her thought. _But being the Count’s favorite, I’m sure you’ve never had to worry about manners._

“Who told you to look through my things?”

“Excuse me?” she asked, confusion knitting her brow.

The doctor stepped closer, looming over her until he stooped down and staring at her, “Who told you to look through my papers?”

“Why, no one, sir, but your desk is always such a mess and-“

“And it bothers no one else as far as I know,” his grey eyes were cold and filled with a barely contained rage. His hand slapped against the fine wood of the desk, “This space is mine, and now Master Asra’s. Not yours, or even as far as I am concerned, the Count’s.”

She glanced at Asra who for his part had the good grace to look embarrassed by this dressing down, “I thought it might be helpful. I’m sorry.”

“I could tolerate this, when I thought it was a librarian organizing my effects-“

“Sir, I’m just a maid-“

“And who would make a better spy? No one notices maids, so they can come and go as they wish, and as such more, no one would notice while you go through their things.”

Zenia liked her privacy, and could understand being upset, but this seemed beyond reasonable, “I’m not a spy,” she said with a sense of finality, “I am terribly sorry to have caused any disturbance,” she bobbed in a curtsy, and started away, eager to get away from this tension.

Devorak snatched her by the arm, and yanked her back to face him, “I will tell you what I told the Count, and I want you to repeat it to him, word for word. The cure will take as long as it takes. Is that unders-“

She pulled back her free arm and smacked him across the face as hard as she could before she realized what it was she was doing. It was the look of shock that made her realize it, but she had done it now, hadn’t she? Her shoulders squared ready for a fight, “You will release me this moment, sir. This is not the way in which a gentleman comports himself!”

He straightened, his free hand reaching up to touch his face where it was reddening. The hand that gripped her arm tightened and quivered.

She leaned sideways, grasping the bottom of her shoe to hit him with it, her eyes never leaving Devorak's.

“Ilya,” Asra’s voice sounded gentler than it ever would to her ears again.

It was as if a spell had broken and the hand left her arm. Devorak looked cowed, and took a handkerchief from his sleeve, “I hope you will forgive my behavior, Miss….”

Her jaw was still tight, and it took her a moment longer than it should have to get her voice under control, “Zenia.”

“Miss Zenia,” he nodded, looking away. The red had spread across his face and it took her longer than she was proud of to realize that he was blushing. He dabbed his brow, “It was completely inconsiderate. I’ve had a rather bad day. I should not have taken it out on you.”

Zenia pushed her spectacles back in place on her nose, “I am sorry to hear that, sir,” she clenched her hands behind her back, “Would it bother you terribly if I left off the rest of the cleaning in here. I’ll finish it off tomorrow.”

“Yes, of course.”

She stared away, smiling politely as Asra, “Would there be anything you might need sir? I can have them send up some tea if you would like.”

“No, thank you,” the master magician smiled.

She nodded, hesitating before turning back to Devorak, “I know it isn’t my business, and as you said I should keep to myself, but…”

Devorak raised a dark brow at her, “But…?” he dabbed the handkerchief at his lip.

She took a deep breath, “I’ll be in a daze through the rest of my rooms, trying to figure it out if I don’t know what it is.”

“What what is, Miss Zenia?” Devorak undid the bottom buttons of his waistcoat as he settled back in his chair.

“That Minotaurian maze you’ve drawn out there,” she gestured to the page she had been studying where it still sat, taunting her.

He looked up at her, as if she had shocked him, before looking back to the page. He picked it up, delicately.

“I couldn’t read the writing, sir,” she explained.

“It is, uh, a cross section of the human brain,” he said, regarding her curiously.

His gaze made her uncomfortable. She hated when a question unlocked more questions, “I see. Good day, gentlemen.” She bobbed again and hurried away before she got herself even further behind on work.

“Was that really necessary?” Asra asked, sitting across Julian at his own side of the wide desk.

“No, I know. It was beastly of me,” Julian admitted, swiping his hand over his face, letting his hand settle at his jaw, “She has a mean arm on her though. You wouldn’t think to look at her, would you?”

“Perhaps you should learn not to judge things by appearance then,” Asra said, a pert look on their features.

“You would say that, magician,” Julian nudged Asra’s foot with his own under the table, as he rubbed the back of his neck, “If Lucio was going to pick a spy, she’d be a good one, though wouldn’t she?”

“She said she wasn’t a spy and I believe her,” Asra said, rising languidly back up and crossed slowly around the desk to lean against it by Julian.

“I warned you, didn’t I? I told you-” Julian smirked up at him.

“That you did,” Asra replied, their fingers stroking Julian’s lower lip, “I know, I know, and if you go into a dramatic soliloquy, I will be quite annoyed with you.”

“Oh?” Julian asked, a smirking grin breaking across his face, “How annoyed?”

Asra smiled back, before waving his hand. The door slid shut at his beckoning, offering them both the only true privacy they had.


	2. Contemplation and Reconcilation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far, and a special thank you to RoseTheKitty, thraxbaby, and Integrrra for their kudos!

Selena’s pretty, round face was the picture of brilliant surprise when Zenia rejoined her in one of the regal, plush, gilded bedrooms, “That was quick.”

“Pardon?” Zenia asked, the color of her indignation still high on her cheeks. Thick lock of black hair fell around her face, which had not been helped by her running as quickly as possible to get away from the library. She took the kerchief off of her hair in front of the bureau and quickly tidied her hair back.

“Are you alright?” Selena asked, watching her compatriot with genuine concern.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Zenia pasted a smile on her face, looking at Selena’s reflection in the glass, “Give me a moment and I’ll help you.”

“You looked as if you’d had a bad turn,” Selena asked, pausing in her work, a pillow in hand.

“When did the doctor get a new colleague?” Zenia asked quickly changing the topic, and picking up the opposite pillow, dropping it on the floor to fluff it up.

“A few months ago, I think. Why?”

Zenia patted her hair gingerly before retying the kerchief back over her head, knotting it at the base of her skull, and adjusting her spectacles over her ears.

“Have you seen him then? Isn’t he handsome? But apparently he’s rather a mystery, since he doesn’t stay in the palace,” Selena giggled, following suit, “My goodness, the both of them together in that library for hours on end.”

“Well I’m sure that the master magician will have no end of work on his hands with the doctor,” Zenia said, trying to check her anger. She fluffed the pillow in place against the headboard.

Selena started to laugh, “The mind reels,” she stopped short, “Are you sure you’re all right?” she set her pillow on the sheets.

Zenia looked over her shoulder quickly, “Do you know anything about Devorak?”

“Honestly, there’s the usual gossip, but I have the feeling that isn’t what you mean…” Selena said, tilting her head, “Were they in the library with you?” She picked up the sheets on her side of the bed.

Zenia mirrored her, evening and smoothing the sheet out with her hand, “Yes.”

“Oh my, was there some sort of impropriety?”

“Oh do contain your glee,” Zenia groaned at her, “Not the sort you’re thinking of.”

“What on earth should I think? And anyhow if some sort of carnal engagement could be over so quickly, well, even with two men…” Selena thought a moment, “No, I can’t imagine even men would have it done so quickly.”

Zenia sighed out her annoyance, straightening out the brocaded coverlet.

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to tease you,” Selena said, “What happened?”

Zenia rubbed her forehead, “Nothing really. He has a temper from what I can tell, but I can’t pretend not to understand it.”

“I should hope not,” said Selena, “You’ve got one too.”

“I’m only nervous, because… I have a general concern that he might tell the Count something that might lose me my place here,” Zenia started wiping over the mirror at the far end of the room.

“What did you do?”

“I may have struck him,” she admitted, “and I may have thought to hit him with my shoe.”

“Oh, you have to tell me now! I feel quite certain that you’ve already told me the juiciest parts of the story, and if you don’t tell me, my imagination would have to fill in the blanks.”

“He disagreed with my tidying his work space,” Zenia admitted, tucking her cleaning rag back into her basket, before stepping back and looking around the room.

“That’s what you get for going beyond what you’re told to. You'd do better to just bugger along when you've done what you've been told to,” Selena said, looking around, “Which is what we should do now. I don’t see anything else to do, in here.”

Zenia nodded, going to the door, baskets in arm, “On ward and upward then?”

0x0x0

There were few points in the day that Julian found quite as distressing as the large and frustratingly lavish dinners they were forced to attend every single night of the Season.

While Count Lucio was kind to him, or rather as kind as someone like Lucio could be, he was rather like a calm sea under a grey sky. Any moment might be the last moment of peace. His temper was a violent one when it was incurred, and who even knew what might incur it, even before he was taken ill.

Julian did his best not to incur the wrath of his patron, while also keep his dignity in place. It was a difficult tightrope to walk, especially with the plague coming down on the city like a maelstrom.

Even as he spoke with an aged baroness at his left hand, he had to contest his attention with the Count’s foot reaching out under the table to stroke at his calf. Julian took a rather long drink of his wine, and looked to Asra who seemed distinctly aware of the predicament in which his colleague found himself, and tipped his glass toward Julian in salute.

Lucio was having one of his better days. Since becoming infected, Count Lucio had found himself mostly bedridden, and given even more kindling to the fire of his violent fits.

“Are you quite alright?” Consul Valerius asked, “You look rather pale, Doctor Devorak.”

“Quite well, thank you, just something I had thought of,” Julian carefully folded the napkin from his lap.

“Having to do with your great work?” The Count asked, turning his red eyes on Julian.

“Yes, sir. If I may be pardoned…?”

The Count all but pouted, waving his wine glass dismissively, “If you must.”

“I’m afraid I must,” Julian stood as elegantly as he could, bowing, “Sir.” He went to the other end of the table to bow over Countess Nadia’s offered hand, “My lady, as always your table does you credit, and brings joy to all at it.”

The Countess nodded her head at him, and gave him a smile, and his hand a gentle squeeze as he bowed and retired from the entire exhausting situation. With any luck, Nadia and Asra would come join him in the Library. They’d become rather friendly together, and it did manage to give him something to look forward to.

The library was dark, and not for the first time, he cursed that he didn’t have magic in his blood. If anyone ever asked him, he would of course deny it fervently.

He slowly went about the far corner of the library to his study space, picking up a cushion, and tucking it under his arm as he went, and setting it on the floor against the wall. He went and collected a few more. Asra looked lounging about as if nothing in the world had to keep his attention. It annoyed Julian more than he would ever admit, but then here he was moving cushions for him every time he came or left the room. It wouldn’t do to have anyone know that Asra spent his time lounging and doing very little. The Count had already threatened him once, as some sort of incentive. He sat back for a moment and put his feet up.

The door opened, and Nadia emerged into the room with a sense of glamor that could not be imitated. He rose from the overstuffed armchair he had all but collapsed in.

“Oh, don’t bother with that,” she sat across from him, “I brought reinforcements,” she set a decanter of wine down in front of them on the side table, and revealed three glasses from her sleeve.

“You are a god-sent, as ever,” he breathed a sigh of relief.

“I must make up for the short comings of my husband somehow, mustn’t I?” she smiled, as he poured the glasses.

“Having any luck at all?”

“I’ve tried a few things that in theory should have worked, but no one from what I can find has ever studied the plague at all. It’s near impossible to find a cure with no understanding of the disease,” he raised a glass to her, “Is Asra coming?”

“He went home for the night, I’m afraid,” she said casting her eyes over the cushions he had moved.

“I was afraid so…” he took a long drink.

“Have you two fallen out?” The Countess’ delicate fingers curled around the stem of her wine glass looking at the color.

“I didn’t think so, but one must wonder,” Julian intoned, leaning his head back against the headrest.

“Whatever did happen?”

“I was rather unkind to one of the serving girls this afternoon, I’m afraid. I’ll have to make my apologies the next time I see her, but I must say that I am disgusted with my own behavior.”

“No one is perfect,” Nadia, allowed, her verbal cadence slow and thoughtful, “And if I may say, I am surprised the amount of stress you have been put under would make anyone buckle eventually.”

“Even though…”

“You’ve been as graceful as one could be,” she took a sip, “Though I would hope that you will tell me what happened. It sounds salacious, and I do love a good bit of gossip.”

“The maid that cleans in here was tidying my desk and I accused her of being one of your husband’s spies. She denied it and I… snatched her rather violently.”

The Countess straightened a bit and stared at him, “Well I should hope you will apologize.”

“She’s an interesting one,” he said, refilling their glasses, “She smacked the goodness out of me.”

Nadia laughed, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, but something about that situation makes me happy.”

“Oh, thank you, my lady.”

“Which girl is it?”

“Zenia, she said her name was.”

“I never would have thought…”

“What?”

“Nothing,” she smiled, “but you must try to make up with Asra. He has an even more beautiful face when he is upset, and if we aren’t careful some artist will steal him away for dramatic paintings.”

“And then you would have to buy all of them,” Julian teased.

0x0x0

Zenia entered the library with a fair amount of trepidation. She couldn’t very well ask to have the entire work list changed because she couldn’t control her temper, or remember her place. She stopped short when she saw that Doctor Devorak hadn’t gone to lunch at all, and was standing, looking out through the window. He turned slowly to look at her, and she had the passing thought that if he had been a woman, she would have thought he was a practiced seductress. It was an odd thought, because from what she knew men were more likely to be seducers, but there was something about his languid stance that made her think of a woman, a very tall broad shouldered woman.

She looked down to hide the blush that crept over her cheeks. She gave a quick curtsy, “Pardon me, Doctor. I didn’t know you were still in here, sir. I can come back.”

“No, I was hoping to catch you,” he admitted, fidgeting with something in his hands, “I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I was absolutely beastly, and I would like very much to be friends,” he held a hand out to her.

“What? Why?” she eyed him nervously, “I mean, I hate to be on the outs with anyone, but…”

He smiled, “Fair enough, miss, but if I’m honest, I’m rather impressed by you.”

“Oh?”

“Well, you have guts, which is more than I can say I expected, but, you seem clever…”

She watched him, “May I put down my baskets, sir?”

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” he gestured for her to sit before looked through the stack of books on his desk until he found the one he was looking for. He held it out to her, “This isn’t one of mine.”

She stiffened a little, and took the book from him, chewing her lip, “They never said that we weren’t supposed to read.”

“I won’t say anything either way,” he leaned back against the desk watching her, “How did you know which of my anatomical drawings were which? You said that you couldn’t read my handwriting.”

“Can you read it?” she asked, teasingly.

He let out a breathy chuckle, “Sometimes,” he watched her, waiting for an answer.

“Your books always have markers and at first I would look at the pictures, and work from there. Most of the pictures looked like each other in some way so I put the bones together. Didn’t take long to figure that anything that looked like river maps were based in the circulatory system. Organs and whatnot took a little longer to sort, but I do like a challenge,” Zenia looked at him, her brow raised a little, “Can I ask you something?”

“It would only be fair, wouldn’t it,” he said, moving to sit in the chair next to her.

“You said that picture was a cross section of a brain, and there were multiple layers in it, and I don’t think I’ve seen any such illustrations in any of the books…”

“You want to know what reference I had when doing the illustration?”

She nodded.

“Have you ever heard of a scientific dissection?”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiled, “If we are to be friends, I would like for you to call me Julian,” he poured a cup of tea and held it a moment, “Do you take cream or sugar at all?”

“A little sugar, if it please,” she tilted her head, watching his hands. He had long graceful fingers.

He put some sugar in her tea and held the cup out by the saucer, “I have done a few dissections.”

Zenia took the cup gingerly, it was fine china, and she had never in her life been allowed to drink out of such a fine thing. She took a sip of the floral tea, thinking, “Does it help with your work?”

“With my work?”

“You’re trying to cure the plague, aren’t you?”

He started, “How would you know that?”

“The Count is ill and it’s no secret that you’ve been ministering to him, and that you’re doing some sort of research here. At least not to me.”

He leaned back in the chair, studying her. He stroked his chin, thoughtfully, “Does anyone else know?”

“I’m sure they do, sir- Julian, I mean. There are rumors, but far as I know there isn’t any in the city about it, though if I’m honest, I don’t have many out there anymore.”

“Are you an orphan?”

“Yes, but I do have an Aunt in town. She has a shop,” Zenia explained, watching Julian pour a cup of tea for himself.

“Why do you not go to work for her, then, rather than work as a maid?”

“Why did you leave your hometown?” she asked, her lips forming a pert little half smile, her chin tilted up to him, “We all make our choices, and when we are unhappy, we make different ones, don’t we?”

Julian nodded, taking a sip of his tea, “I suppose that is rather a fair characterization of humanity.”

“I’m sorry I struck you,” she admitted. He didn’t seem like such a terrible person after all. He had always seemed pleasant enough. He had always struck her as being like a very tall and very shy child.

“Were you going to hit me with your shoe?” he asked, as if it was a detail that had been bothering him.

Her laughter rang out, through the empty room before she pressed a hand over her mouth, “Sorry. I shouldn’t laugh.”

He grinned wide at her, “You were?”

“Well, I thought I might have to hit you again, and my hand already hurt.”

“You’re a hard thing,” he chuckled, “I wouldn’t have guessed it to look at you.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re a small woman, but then, I would hope that my little sister would react the same if a man ever grabbed her like I did you.”

“You have a little sister?”

He put a finger to his lips gently, “A close secret. The Count doesn’t know, so I would greatly appreciate if you help me keep it.”

“How old is she?”

He leaned back and looked up at the ceiling, “She must be almost twenty now. I haven’t seen her since she was in ringlets and nursing gowns, honestly.”

“You can’t be that much older than her?” she asked.

“Old enough that I should know better,” he teased her back.

She watched him, “What did you mean by wanting to be friends?”

“What do you think I mean?”

“All I know is most time anyone in the court tries to ‘be friendly’ with any of us maids, it’s because they want one of two things, one is a spy, the other is a bedmate.”

“Well, I don’t honestly want either thing,” he admitted, “you’re a clever enough girl, and I shall feel forever in your debt. I certainly would have driven myself mad if my papers ended up staying where I left them. And I wouldn’t want to ever be on your bad side.”

“Why?”

“You have a rather mean arm, if I may say so.”

“I dare say I’d better. I worked very hard for it,” Zenia grinned at him.


	3. Teatime at Lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shoutout to Sydil91 and viciti for their kudos! Also to the guests that have left me kudos as well! Thank you to you all for reading on!

Zenia was laughing when Asra came back and he could feel his heart tighten in his chest painfully, the look on her face did nothing to soothe him, and the look on Ilya’s face made it worse. There was something palpable between them that Asra was almost certain one would be able to touch if they were to reach a hand between them. Asra couldn’t deny that he had wanted Ilya to be civil with her, but not this. He had meant to get back before she was done and maybe have this moment to savor between she and he.

Asra cleared his throat meaningfully, and both of them looked up, still smiling, “I’m glad you both are getting along.”

“We have decided that we are going to be great friends, from now on, aren’t we?” Ilya had the gall to say, his features fixed in a jubilant smile. There was something searching in his eyes, as if he was hoping for Asra’s approval, “Perhaps I should introduce the two of you.”

“No need, Asra and I are well acquainted,” Zenia interrupted, placing her hand on Ilya’s forearm, just so. Where had she done that before? It was a practiced gesture, so maybe there was yet hope for them.

“Yes, we were friends growing up. She lived-“

“We were neighbors,” she said, “but I hadn’t seen you in so long, I’m sorry that I didn’t speak to you yesterday. I dare say neither of us were at our bests.”

“No, dare say,” replied Ilya, placing his hand over hers.

Asra did his best to keep his features under control, “Then I am glad we are all doing well here.”

A clock chimed in the library, drawing Zenia’s attention up to the time, “My god, I forgot the time, entirely. I have to get back it will be a box for my ears,” she stood, gently putting the now empty teacup and saucer on the side table, “Thank you for the tea, doctor.”

“Anytime. If you ever need a rest, our door is open,” he said, standing up with her and offering her his hand. She placed hers gently in his, knuckles up, like she’d seen ladies do at balls and receptions, and bobbed.

Ilya smiled, bowing his hand over her hand.

She turned to Asra as she was leaving, and gave his shoulder a friendly little squeeze; “We’ll have to catch up sometime!” she scooped up her baskets and hurried along.

Asra watched her, and tried to maintain the smile before turning back to Ilya, “So that’s sorted now.”

“What have I done to incur such ire? I would have thought you would be pleased, since you gave me such a telling off for her,” Ilya replied, his confusion clear on his face, “And why didn’t you say you were old pals?”

Asra picked up the cushions annoyed, “Why do you always move these?”

“Because I don’t want her to have to do it, do you?”

“She leaves your books,” Asra snapped, fluffing the cushions into more comforting shapes.

“Don’t tell me you’re cross with her now, because I will do her the same courtesy as her and fight for her professional honor without hesitation,” Ilya watched him, “Are you really cross with me, now?”

“No, why would you think so?”

“Then whatever you’re upset about wasn’t about her?” Ilya sat, setting in the armchair to look at him, “Please tell me what’s wrong?”

“How can you actually ask me that with no sense of irony at all?” Asra snapped.

“Because I don’t mean to be ironic at all… is it because of what I said a few days ago? About wanting to keep you safe? Why is that just now dawning on you?”

“Because you keep acting as though you didn’t say it at all,” Asra replied, “You want to protect me and push me away, but you lack the gumption to stick to it, and it only just struck me as absolutely ludicrous.”

“I know, I’m a wretched thing, please can we stay friends at least?”

“And another thing, why on earth are you flirting with her?” Asra tried to control his voice, but he felt like screaming at Ilya. Why did he have to take everything in the world?

“I was not flirting. You wanted us to all be friends, and I feel terrible for the way I’ve been acting. I’m trying to make it right,” Ilya said, perplexed, “I’m honestly still having a hard time understanding what it is we’re arguing about. First you’re mad about the cushions, then me, then Zenia. I’m afraid I just don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t,” Asra said, finally, as if the realization was just coming to mind, “and it isn’t your fault.”

“Do you want us to be together?” Ilya asked. In some ways he wanted to be with Asra, but even he could see that this wasn’t working, “Is that what you want?”

Asra couldn’t explain it in anyway that wouldn’t sound horrible. There was no way to say it in a way that wouldn’t give Julian ammunition.

“No. Not anymore. You aren’t a bad person, but you aren’t what I need.”

Ilya nodded, swallowing hard and sitting up. He looked away for a moment before getting up and going to sit behind his desk, “Then there’s nothing to be done for it.”

“Nothing,” Asra said, watching his former lover transform in his eyes from Ilya to Julian. Asra was given Julian’s true name when they were to be loyal to each other first and foremost, but now he couldn’t see how it would be right, “I forgot I have something to do,” Asra got up and wandered out of the library, compelled forward by the need to vent about this.

Asra burst into the Countess’s sitting room with all the magnitude of the gossip she would lap up like red wine, “I think I’m going to murder him.”

Countess Nadia’s red eyes lit up in barely contained glee, gesturing her handmaid away, waiting until she was gone from her presence and they were alone, “What did he do?”

“He’s just so…” Asra poured a glass of wine and drained it eagerly.

“Darling, it is half one, in the afternoon.”

“So you don’t want any?” Asra asked, eyebrows rising to disappearance under his fluffy white hair.

“I didn’t say that…” Nadia allowed, waving a hand at Asra to pour her a glass.

Asra passed her the stem less glass and collapsed more delicately than she could have imagined, and took a deep breath.

“Well you and he are no longer copulating, so I don’t see how it’s really your problem anymore,” Nadia said, waiting for the stream of gossip to pour out. She had a distinct feeling that she was going to have to have more wine brought up.

“But he’s being all suave and whatnot, and Zenia doesn’t see that he’s a stupid… a stupid… idiot.”

“Zenia the maid?” Nadia asked, confused, “What is this sudden fascination with my servants? This girl must be a rare beauty.”

“She’s more cute, than beautiful. She’s like a fox cub, but also she looks nothing at all like a fox at all… I mean she’s like, tiny and has a cute nose, and her eyes are kind of big.”

“Please tell me that you’ve never talked to her like that, because none of those words would ever inspire passion in anyone that wasn’t probably mad.”

Asra groaned again, pouring another glass of wine, “I’m hopeless.”

“I wouldn’t say that…” Nadia said, ignoring that in this specific thing Asra might be rather hopeless, “You’re taking this very hard is all.”

“She was the first person I think I ever loved,” Asra said with certain trepidation in his voice, “You have to help me. Julian is all smooth and… he knows how to flirt.”

“What is actually upsetting you?”

“I thought maybe he would say sorry, she would be indignant, and they would never get along, and then she would tell me how much she hated him,” Asra breathed slowly, trying to regain his focus, “And maybe she would come to see me as something more than just her friend.”

“That is probably the stupidest plan for a seduction that I have ever heard,” Nadia said, glee lighting her face up.

“Please don’t enjoy this,” Asra begged.

“I will do my best, but frankly, this might become my new favorite palace drama,” she clapped her hands, “Two things you must swear to me. One is that you will accept that Zenia is her own person, and will do what feels right to her. And two; you must keep me abreast of all developments.

0x0x0

They had incidentally become good friends, even having tea together almost every day. Though Zenia noticed with some confusion that whenever she came into the room, Asra would be pleasant but beg an excuse or other and leave, always begging them not to touch any of the cushions that he had claimed as his own. It was like the cushions were the only things Asra cared about, even though she knew he was a sensitive person.

“Have you two had a falling off? I thought you were both very close,” Zenia asked one afternoon over tea, and watched Julian as he made up his mind about what to say.

“We have rather, though I don’t know why I’m surprised you know that we were…”

“Lovers,” she supplied him the word, and giggled as he blushed, “That’s the word for it, right?”

“In retrospect, not one I would use. I think we were just a means to an end for each other,” Julian admitted, pouring his cup of tea as well. He was standing next to her, and there was something deft in being able to pour tea into a cup held by the saucer without the whole think going off balance.

Zenia was getting better about the height difference between them. She didn’t typically get headaches from tilting her head all the way back to look up at him. She could do well enough to glance sidelong at his upper arm, and she felt it gave her an air of almost mystery, but at the back of her mind, she was sure she looked like a small child side eyeing an annoying relative. She remembered when she had more time to practice and there was money involved had she ever managed to look convincingly coy.

He reached out and gently pinched her cheek, before sitting, splayed out in his arm chair, “Tell me what that look is.”

“I think it was supposed to look mysterious,” she admitted, “But if I’m honest, you’re ridiculously tall, doctor, and if I were to spend all of our time together looking up at you, then I think I could get a crick in my neck, and I’m certain, that the Count wouldn’t want any of his servants looking up.”

“Why?”

She sipped her tea, thinking, “Ladies look up,” she sat straighter, composing her features in a serene mask of calculated distance, eyes hooded, lips together, teeth apart, and added in a nice little arched brow. Her chin tilted up, “Merchant’s wives can look forward,” she adjusted her shoulders forward just a touch, and tilted her chin down, and pressed her teeth together, “But maids have to look down,” her had long since perfected the look of meek servitude, and she showed him, “Though that’s easier, since no one looks at your face at all, so you can look as irritated at you’d like.”

“That’s a rather blanket assessment,” Julian said, marveling without showing it that he was marveling at her ability to change her features with little effort.

“But it’s true, isn’t it? When was the last time you saw the Countess tilting her head down more than a fraction?”

Julian opened his mouth to answer, but found that he had a hard time thinking of any such instance, and didn’t answer at all.

“See? A cat can look at a King, but he better not catch a scullery maid at it,” she teased him.

He warmed her teacup with a half refill, watching her, “Do you have many such philosophies?”

“I have quite a bit of time to think, if that’s what you mean.”

“What are the servants quarters here like?” he asked suddenly.

“Why? Are you thinking of changing you accommodation? I wouldn’t recommend it. Our beds are not near as plush as yours.”

“I figured, but tell me anyway,” The doctor said gently, “I know my mother was keen to put my sister in service when she was old enough.”

“And you’re scouting a position for her?” Zenia asked, wanting to change the conversation, “But I thought she was a secret all together.”

“Well, no one would have to know that she was my sister.”

“That is a terrible plan.”

“Why?” Julian asked his strong brows furrowed over his pale eyes.

“Is she also six foot four, and have cheekbones that you could open envelopes with?” she jibed, “because if she looks like you with hips, I don’t think anyone would be fooled.”

“Well then, at least you think I’m pretty.”

Zenia faltered, not sure what to say. She didn’t think that he wasn’t, but pretty wasn’t quite the word. There was something almost female to his gracefulness, but that was probably just too tall, which forced him to bend and lean.

But it wasn’t just that, she realized a beat too late that she was staring at him while deliberating, her head tilted as she took his features; wide pale grey eyes, straight sharp nose, high cheekbones that begged you to run a finger over them. He had a fine jaw that tapered in a nice enough chin, and though his ears were a little on the large side, they suited him, and his lips were…

“I didn’t think such a quip would lead to such a deep contemplation on my better features,” he was smirking like a cat in the process of stealing the canary’s wife.

“I know that I’m being quite foolish,” she smiled, looking into her cup, “But I think it just occurred to me that this might actually be the first time I’ve been alone with a man in some time.”

“I can ask Asra to stay, if it would be better. I would hate to put your reputation in danger.”

“Oh, my dear, that would have to mean that I would have to have a reputation so sterling that it could be touched by something so trivial,” she sipped her tea.

“What do you mean?” he leaned forward on his arm.

“Only that we all have our pasts, and they’re never so terrible as they seem,” she smiled.

“Do you think so?” he smiled easily, “Somehow that’s reassuring.”

“Isn’t it, though?” she smiled, “though I’m not sure yet that we live in a world where we are completely immune from our pasts. I do hope one day we can.”

“You are a strange one. You act, from what I can tell that when you’re in front of anyone that may outrank you socially, you act as though you have no more brains than an empty bucket, but the more you talk the more I’m given to think that you went to some school or higher learning.”

“Never so lucky. It may be a surprise, but most women have minds of there own, even if they’re only maids,” she grinned, “but no one wants a clever housemaid. We don’t exist and we aren’t supposed to hear anything. They go rather hand in hand. People talk and we just sort of mill around as if there’s nothing being said at all.”

“But you hear everything constantly,” he said, certain, “I told you, maids make the best spies.”

“Why haven’t you tried to use me as a spy yet, then?”

“I don’t have a use of one as of yet. Why? Are you in the market for extra curricular work?”

“We’re friends, and if I heard anything that might be useful to you, I would try to pass it along.”

“That would be good of you,” Julian tilted his head at her.

She chewed her lip, “Far as I know, the Count is quite done with Valerius, but honestly if I tried to keep track of his interests I would lose all sense of temporal reality… time, I mean.”

“That’s not news, my dear,” Julian said gently, “but I appreciate the offer.”

“Then you also know that Valerius is arguing to have you replaced?”

Julian’s ears perked up, “What?”

“He has a crony he wants to put in your place, and has been whispering sardonic nothings in the Count’s ear,” she reached into the pocket on the front of her apron, and took a small bundle wrapped in a white handkerchief, “Oh, I completely forgot! I honestly hope this is yours.”

“What is it?” Julian asked, hesitating. He looked at the bundle before taking it. He unfolded the damp handkerchief and looked rather confused at the dried brown thing in his hand, “is this a-“

“I think it’s a leech. I hope it’s alright, I tried to keep it alive. I found it under the Count’s bed. I would advise not to use them again,” she said, “though I’m sure you’ve figured that out already.”

“How do you mean?” Julian asked, smiling.

“Well there was quite a bit of broken glass around the poor bugger, so my guess is that his lordship did not take well to them.”

“That might actually qualify as the understatement of our entire generation,” he intoned, getting up, “Where have you been keeping it?”

“Found him yesterday afternoon, and I put him in a little water, with a stick, though I wasn’t sure he would survive.”

Julian laughed, putting the leech in the jar apart from the other leeches, “I doubt most people would take so much care with what seems little more than a worm.”

“Well you seem particularly fond, of your pets.”

“They are a medical tool, dear Zenia,” he smiled at her, “I wish I had known this one was alive sooner, I might have been able to get a blood sample from it.”

She flushed a little, cutting her eyes at him. That was the second time he had called her dear now, and she liked it more than she should, “Yes, doctor, my mistake.”

“Coyness doesn’t suit you, you know,” he reached down to help her up from her chair, “you aren’t a courtier, and I wouldn’t want to act the part when you don’t have to.”

“Do you have to be coy, too?” she asked, taking his hand, “How do you know when you can trust anyone?”

“Can I trust you?” he stroked his thumb against her fingers a moment, contemplating. Her hands weren’t soft, but chafed and calloused more even than his own.

“Of course, I can’t think of a reason to lie to you,” she admitted more honestly than she probably should have.

“Then that is enough for me.”

Her heart hammered in her corseted chest, pulling her hand away. “I have to get moving on. Time always seems to move faster here than I want it to.”

He walked with her to the door, listening to her and watching before he spoke, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then, dear Zenia.”

“Tomorrow, dear Julian,” she smiled, going along on her way to the servant’s staircase hidden in the small space behind a stone column, her head tilted back to the floor as she went.


	4. Tumbled Rescue

Julian’s room was one of those cleaned and tidied by Selena and Zenia, which gave Zenia an odd sense of voyeurism. She hadn’t ever thought more about the peculiar nature of their jobs, touching people’s things and deciding where they should go. She could understand why Julian had been so annoyed with her at their first meeting.

It was odd that now she looked at his unmade bed and thought about how intimate it was to make a bed, or that her hands were touching what his body had. It was stupid, and she didn’t know why she was even thinking about it at all.

Zenia walked along side her cleaning partner as they went into Julian’s rooms, listening as Selena babbled on, about the new baker’s girl that she had started seeing, and gushed on. She was never so excited about anything in a relationship as she was at the start.

“You should cherish her,” Zenia teased, holding the door open.

“Why?” Selena asked, passing her, her light brow furrowed in confusion.

“The baker’s cinnamon loafs are more satisfying than any man I’ve ever-“ Zenia bumped into Selena’s back, cutting her sentence short, “What- Oh…”

“I’ll be off hand if I’m in the way,” Julian smiled from the armchair he was sitting in by the window. He sat in perfect repose like a romantic hero. He was wearing his trousers, his boots, and a shirt, but the shirt hung open at the collar, revealing pale skin.

The both of them curtsied quickly, Selena grinning gleefully at Zenia’s faux pas, and Zenia’s dark eyes staring a hole in the wall over Julian’s head, her face turning red as the pomegranates they carried, out of embarrassment both her words, and the nagging urge she had to stare at him.

“Oh no, doctor,” Selena smiled, “We can come back.”

He stood, and began crossing the room, a smile alighting his features, “No, I should have been out of here hours ago, but I’m afraid I lost track of the time.”

“It’s no trouble,” Zenia looked at the floor, suddenly finding something interesting in the wood grain of the parquet floorboards. Her face felt hot as she notices the small flecks of red gold hair visible in the opening o his shirt. She could almost smell sleep on his skin at this proximity.

Selena moved around him, “I’ll start in the other room,” she shot Zenia an approving look behind his back, and pressed a hand over her mouth.

“What are you reading?” Zenia asked looking at the blue leather bound book in his hands.

“Oh, ‘A Year on the Sea; a captive tale’, it’s what you were reading when we first met,” he smiled, “It’s rather fanciful, but I can’t say I don’t like it,” he smiled, “I thought we could talk about it, when I finished.”

“That would be nice,” she glanced into the adjoined bedroom where Selena was picking up the room. She held up his waistcoat, glancing at it, and then at him, an eyebrow cocked. She gestured with the garment as if she would throw it out the window. Zenia put a few fingers to her lips to stop her smile.

“Are you alright?” Julian asked, starting to turn.

“Quite, thank you,” Zenia said quickly, “Just that Selena has found your waistcoat there, perhaps you could…”

He tilted his head looking at her, before a look of realization crossed his face. He laughed, “Ah, pardon me, Miss Zenia, I hadn’t thought you had such an active imagination.”

“Oh shut it,” she tried not to laugh, but found herself failing, “It isn’t my fault you look like an allegory for some carnal sin.”

“Suppose you’re right. I should be off,” he remarked, turning to collect his waistcoat from Selena, only to find her just beside him, “Oh, thank you.”

“No, thank you, doctor,” she said with an appraising look.

Julian started, and glanced at Zenia for reassurance.

“Oh, but I thought that you liked forwardness,” she shot him a look.

He chuckled and held his hand out for hers, “I hope you ladies will behave yourself.”

“Oh always,” Zenia said softly, taking his hand.

“Do say you’ll save me some of that sinful bread,” he smirked, his last quip. He winked, bowed his head and left the maids to their work.

“Oh, he’s keen on you!” Selena teased, bumping her hip against Zenia’s, as soon as his footsteps left the room, “Now I see what’s been keeping you down there.”

“Oh, hush, he’s just a flirt,” Zenia set her baskets on the floor and set about making up his bed, hoping he hadn’t heard her. Her ears picked up the low tones of conversation in the corridor outside.

Making the bed went quickly, and the made rather quick work of the room since the doctor had begun to keep his room much tidier than anyone else’s. There was only the crystal chandelier in his sitting room for Zenia to finish. She pulled a chair to sit under it, a duster in hand when she noticed the source of the voices. 

Through the crack in the door, she could see Julian and the Count, and whatever it was they were discussing didn’t look to be going well. The Count leaned on a set of twin canes, his dogs at his hips; it startled her to see how poorly the Count was doing. There was no way to know if anyone else was there.

She couldn’t remember if Julian had looked even this annoyed when he had scolded her over his desk, but then it was a different thing all together. He looked almost afraid.

She thought hard for a moment before climbing up on the chair, straining to listen as she cleaned the crystals overhead.

“If you can not manage to do the only thing you were supposed to be able to do, namely saving my life… You’ve done it once. Perhaps it was foolish to… do not interrupt me. You know how I hate that…” there was a bite in his voice that made her skin crawl.

She couldn’t hear what Julian was saying, but she knew that he was running out of excuses.

She cast a quick glance over her shoulder at Selena, who was wiping dust from a gilded picture frame, then at the door, where no one was even aware of her existence. She took a deep breath and counted backwards, “three, two,” she slid her foot under the base of the chair, hesitating for a second, trying to remember how to do this, “…one.” She pushed up under the chair with her foot, toppling the chair loudly against the parquet floor, and rolling a little to absorb the impact.

“Zenia!” Selena called, rushing over to her, “oh, my god! You stupid girl, how many times have I told you not to do things you can’t reach?”

“I’m fine, I’m sure,” Zenia winced, her ankle forced at an odd angle, “Just help me up…”

“Don’t move,” Julian said, crouching next to her, “Where does it hurt?”

“My ankle…” she said quietly, “sir.”

He shifted his weight to look at the ankle that she gestured to. 

“The girl said she was fine,” The Count groaned, leaning in the doorway.

“I think it’s…” a strange look passed over his face as he gingerly touched her ankle, “I think it’s a strain.”

“I’ve never heard of a strained muscle,” Lucio said suspiciously.

“It’s when there’s strain applied to the muscle and if there is anymore pressure applied it will sprain,” Julian said, confidently.

“If she says she’s fine, then let her resume her work,” Lucio said, annoyed.

“And when her aunt in the city tells her neighbors that you didn’t take any care with your servants?” Julian asked, looking up at his liege lord, “then every parent with a son or daughter in your service might take them home, and I daresay you would have a difficult time re-staffing your palace, even after the plague is cured.”

Lucio breathed heavily, “Fine, then.”

Julian picked Zenia up in his arms, startling her, “I’m taking you to the infirmary so that I can take a closer look at that, but I have a feeling that you’re going to have to rest for a day.”

Selena’s jaw tightened at the thought of her extra work, almost double what she ought to have, “Yes, doctor.”

He nodded, “Pardon me, Count,” he moved gingerly past the clearly exhausted Lucio. Zenia did her best not to look at the Count, but she found herself staring into his eyes. They were so much worse than she imagined, and she wondered how he was able to walk at all. His eyes were so bloodshot that almost no white remained at all, and under that she could sense such a deep resentful hatred. 

In spite of the Count’s malice, she felt sorry for him. She should have let Julian get back to work instead of this ploy to protect him from what might have just been an awkward situation. Why had she even done that? Why had she given her loyalty to Julian? She glanced up at him, suddenly, and found herself almost startled by his determination. There was something in the set of his brow.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“Not here,” he replied quietly, “The walls have ears.”

She looked down, and wondered at how far off the ground she was. When was the last time she had been carried? She couldn’t think of it, she must have been a baby, then. That would have made sense, because she felt suddenly completely helpless.

“Would you be a dear,” Julian gestured at the door handle with his knee. 

She leaned down in his arms, and opened the door for him. He sat her gently on a high set table. She watched him, “My I apologize now?”

He smiled over his shoulder at her, picking up a stool and carrying it over to her, unbuttoning the bottom of his waistcoat as he sat in front of her on the low stool, “You have nothing to apologize for. Accidents will happen.” He rolled his sleeves up, looking carefully at the hem of her dress, hesitantly.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” his cheeks were a little pink, “Rather, may I…?”

She tilted her head, “what?”

Julian tugged gently at the hem of her dress. “This has to… I have to lift your hem, Miss Zenia.”

“You are a doctor,” she said almost laughing at his embarrassment.

“Yes,” he said slowly.

Her head tilted to look at him, “Are you asking my permission, then?”

“I wouldn’t want to be… indecorous, especially considering that I am quite sure there is nothing wrong with your ankle…” he glanced up at her under his dark lashes.

“I’m not sure there isn’t… I’m out of practice when it comes to distractions of that nature,” she admitted, embarrassed, “Though it’s only a little sore from whacking one of the chair legs on the way down.” 

“Tumbling can be hard to manage,” he grinned, “I’m relieved honestly, for a moment there I was actually worried you might have hurt yourself,” he tenderly held her ankle in place and positioned a hand at the heel of her shoe and softly slipping it from her foot, “Would you mind if I double checked your ankle?”

She smiled, “I guess not, though it seems an odd request,” she held her skirt up, giving him access to her stocking clad calf. His touch felt strangely nice. His hands moved gently, turning her foot to make sure it wasn’t impeded in any way. Her eyes closed slowly as his hands traveled up to her calf and ankle, feeling for any swelling.

“Seems you’re fine,” he smiled, letting her go of her leg.

She murmured, “not yet,” so quietly as she felt cool air back on her leg that he almost didn’t hear her.

“Did that hurt?” he asked, concerned again for a moment before he saw her face. His smirk seemed to know everything she had ever thought about in the deeper part of her mind. He stood up in front of her, studying her closely. His bare hand lingered just over her cheek, as if he was begging for her consent to stroke her cheek, but faltered, dropping his hand back to his side.

“Why did you do it, then?” he asked, still smirking.

“You looked like you needed an extraction,” she admitted, chewing her lip, “and it’s not like a quick accident would really upset anyone.”

“Except you, if you had fallen wrong. What would have happened if you had tumbled wrong and broken an arm? I promise you wouldn’t have enjoyed that as much.”

“Well at least I know you’re really my friend,” she smiled innocently. There was a flash of an idea that crossed her mind, something quick. She could grab him and pull him close against her, and she could wrap her legs… No stop it now. She took her glasses off, and wiped them on her apron to clear the fog.

“Are you alright?” he asked, pressing closer to her. His fingers tilted her chin up to look at him. His fingers touched her neck lightly, “You’re warm…”

Was this a sudden thing, after all, or had it been slowly growing over the last few weeks. She thought back, and realized that there were all of these little things that seemed to tug her closer to him, a touch here, a comment there, a gaze that lingered for a moment too long. He had started looking at her differently, hadn’t he? There was something both piercing and beseeching in his pale eyes that stayed with her.

“Your pulse is racing,” he said, a second before she was reaching up for him, her foot finding the stool between his legs, and pressing up to let her lips touch his in the moment before he heard the footsteps racing down the hall.

It wasn’t even a moment. He hadn’t even been able to wrap his arms around her fully before he had to push her back down to sit. He dropped back to sit on the stool, and mimed looking over her ankle again, “You really must be more careful-“ he said as if he had been lecturing her the whole time as the door to the infirmary burst open.

“Zenia, are you alright?” Asra demanded, rushing her anxiously.

“Oh, I’m quite alright!” she beamed at him, trying to reassure him that everything was as it should be.

“Are you sure?” Asra asked, touching her arm, “your color is up and you look…” He pulled back suddenly, looking between Zenia and Julian, and noted the color high on their cheeks. His chest panged at the realization, “Is she even hurt?”

“That remains to be seen,” Julian said, not looking up, “Honestly your ankle feels a little swollen, but that could be from impact… and you looked flushed when you came in…” He stood up, and looked at her, an idea forming in his mind, “What if it was the domestic staff?”

“What was?” Zenia asked.

“Has anyone taken ill in the servant’s quarters?” Julian asked, taking her wrist and feeling for her pulse.

“I’m not sure… Anja wasn’t feeling well a few days ago, but she went home to rest?”

“What are you on about now?” Asra asked, almost glaring at Julian, but not quite. Then his face lit up as if it had occurred to him, “If a servant is sick, they would spread the illness!”

“Just so!” Julian looked more excited than Zenia could remember ever seeing him, “Has anyone taken ill that Anja attends?”

“Has anyone besides the Count taken ill?” Zenia asked.

Asra and Julian shared a look.

“A few people have, but they’ve gone to the island,” Asra said.

“How has it gotten so bad?” Zenia rubbed her forehead anxiously, “How are they even keeping it quiet?”

“”If the Count would shut the palace, maybe there would be something we could do about it spreading,” Julian said, fidgeting. He thought a moment, “I’m afraid I will have to ask you something quite indecent.”

“Is it necessary?” Asra asked, rage building in his chest.

“You need to do an examination to see if I’ve been contaminated,” Zenia said, annoyed, but she understood. She took her spectacles off, as Julian washed his hands in a basin. She glanced at Asra, “You’ll stay, and ensure my honor. If anyone were to come in and see my in any state of undress, I’d be sacked.”

“There won’t be much need for you take any of your clothes off. I only need to check your eyes and your heart beat. All else fails, maybe your lungs, but that should be alright.”

“And you can hear through a corset then?” Zenia asked.

She could feel Asra’s nerves, and something else radiating and filling the room to the point that it almost stifled her. Julian had the good decency to blush, “We’ll see, if I have to take any measurements that might require, I’ll call for a maid.”

“I’ve never been to a doctor. What all does it involve?” she asked Julian, squinting a little to try to see what the blurry shapes of the both of he and Asra. She couldn’t see far past the hand in front of her face, but she could see the room dimming as Julian closed the curtains, and lit a candle.

“I’m going to check your eyes first,” Julian said, resting a hand in front of her eyes, “Please close them for a few minutes. I need to be able to see into them, and it’s going to be somewhat uncomfortable.”

“How so?” she asked, closing her eyes under his hand.

He felt her eyelashes moved against his palm before he took it away, and went to put the candle in an odd contraption. It was a set of small mirrors and a slender metal scope, “There’s going to be a very bright light somewhere in your eye. You’ll see it, but it won’t be where it’s usually.”

“What a grand adventure your little candle must be,” she teased him.

He carried the device over and looked at her for a lingering moment, “Open your right eye, please,” he held the device up, positioning it, “Keep the left closed.”

“Should I open the one on your right or mine?”

“Yours,” he said. He studied the inner working of her eye. There wasn’t anything there out of the ordinary, “Alright, other one, please.”

“It’s not as weird as you made it sound,” she said.

“I didn’t think, about it, but if you have spectacles, then you’ve likely experienced something similar.”

“Not really. A man with a stall had a bunch of bits of glass and made me hold them all in front of my eyes and pick the ones that worked best.”

“Really? That seems hardly legitimate. You might want to have an actual optometrist check your eyes,” Julian said, snuffing the candle, “Asra be a dear and open the curtains.”

She could feel Asra move in the darkened room, and it was as if she could see without her eyes. Julian caressed her cheek gently for a moment before the light came back. 

Julian turned back to his neck, scribbling out a note, and Zenia squeezed her eyes shut against the bright winter sun before putting her spectacles back on. Asra settled back to sit in the armchair just beside her.

Julian smiled, “could you roll up your sleeve, I want to check your heart rate, but I should be able to just check your pulse by your arm,” he tied a ribbon around her upper arm, pinching a little. There was an odd wooden tube on the desk, and he pressed it against the crook of her arm. He placed his ear over the other end of it, listening.

Zenia looked over her shoulder at Asra, confused. It did little good, since Asra just gestured that it was nonsense. It reminded her of a landlady listening for gossip through the walls with a cup.

He stood back up, and scribbled another note, “No symptoms that I can see. Nothing wrong with the vessels in your eyes, nor palpitations of the heart.”

“So I’m healthy, then?”

“Fit as a fiddle,” Julian leaned back against the desk, one ankle crossed in front of the other.

“You sound positivity disappointed that Zenia is not decidedly not dying,” Asra snarked at Julian, pursing his lips.

“I’m trying to imagine the linguistics of having the entire domestic staff inspected, and I am rather upset that I haven’t done so sooner.”

“Why didn’t you?” Zenia asked.

“Because as far as we knew no one new had come in or out of the palace, so if anyone were to take ill, we would know.”

“Did you all honestly think that we were just locked in the attic at nightfall and had no free time?” Zenia asked.

“I doubt very much that the good doctor had thought about the servants in this court at all before having met you properly,” Asra replied.

“The city is at least quarantined, isn’t it?” Zenia asked, “So why not just search everyone?”

“In the whole city?” Julian asked, “No, we have to work from what we have now, and trying to sort it.” He sat back, rubbing his neck, “The Count is going to kill me, isn’t he?”

“Probably,” Asra admitted.

“Neither of you are helpful,” Zenia got slowly down from the table, pointing at Asra, “You, stop being petty. If you don’t have anything to contribute, shut it. And you,” she pointed at Julian, “Self pity is a trait I can not stand in anyone. It wastes time, and does nothing but serve to alienate.”

“Then what is it that you suggest?” Julian asked.

“I say, fuck it. We’re all gonna die, so let’s just drink ourselves into tomorrow,” Zenia said on a long exhale.

The pair of them Julian and Asra shared the first laugh they had had another in weeks, and they both began to relax.

“I’m not joking,” Zenia’s her voice was serious and level.


	5. A Request

“It’s the solstice,” Zenia said, glancing between Asra and Julian, “the whole city will be drunk, so we might as well be among them. Did you honestly forget, Asra?”

Asra’s face faltered, “Are you suggesting that we all sneak out into the nighttime revels?”

“It’s a religious holiday. The entirety of the staff will be allowed to leave after supper is cleared up,” Zenia explained, “And I hope to see you both there.”

Asra stood, “I suppose I will see you then, Zenia,” he took her hand gently and gave it a little shake, before he went out from the room, his shoulders tense. There was an air of awkwardness in the space that he had left, and it streamed behind him in his wake, making both Zenia and Julian rather uncomfortable as if they had been caught stealing.

It actually reinforced something in Zenia’s mind as it regarded her growing attraction to the doctor. She hated being made to feel as if she was so small and wrong, as if Asra was her guardian.

“I should wrap your ankle,” Julian said, patting his knee for her to put her foot up for him to tend her limb, “In case anyone asks about it.” He was eager to break the silence.

The smile spread slowly across her face, and put her foot daintily on his knee, and hitched her skirt up to rest on her knee, then slowly rolled her stocking down, leaning forward just slightly. It was like a tableau in a play about morality, “Does that not make it easier?” she asked at his blush, tilting her head and raising a brow at him.

Julian took the opportunity to look away as he took a roll of linen bandages from a compartment in his desk, “You surprise me is all.”

“What do you mean?”

“You seem sometimes shy, but other times as if you… you’re like a maelstrom,” he said wrapping the bandage firmly around her ankle.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for such a poetic soul,” she teased him, reaching out to stroke his auburn hair gently.

“Hush,” he sighed, trying not to think about her fingers touching his hair, or her flesh being offered up. He didn’t want to think about the plump leg in front of him. When he had finished wrapping it, he hesitated, “I wouldn’t take you for an acrobat,” he retorted too late.

“What makes you think I am one?”

“I can’t imagine any other reason for you to know how to tumble,” Julian replied.

“We couldn’t all go to medical school,” she smiled, letting her leg slip against his on the way to the floor, “I had a different life before I came here.”

“In the circus?”

She laughed, going to pick her shoe up off the floor and rolled her stocking back up her calf, “No, not so adventurous.” She picked up the lavender ribbon that he had wrapped about her arm when measuring her pulse, “Can I keep this?”

“Why?”

“Lost a garter and it wouldn’t do to have my stocking fall down my leg all day,” she said, tying the ribbon around the top of her stocking without waiting for his permission, “And it’s far prettier than anything I’d be able to afford.”

“Are you sure you don’t just want something of mine wrapped around your leg?” he asked. It was meant to be a joke, but even as he said it he had to stop himself from wincing. Standing up, he tried to look away from her, trying to catch his breath.

“Hush or I’ll have no secrets left me,” Zenia leaned forward to look up at him. She was so close that she could smell the mink oil he must have used on his boots.

“You’ll have to get back to work,” Julian all but sputtered, his hands clenched in fists by his sides to stop him reaching up to grasp her face in his hands. He hadn’t really wanted it to go this way between them. He had wanted to court her and make his intentions more chivalrously known than this.

Her small hand stopped inches from his chest, and hovered in the air in front of him. Of course he was right, but she wanted something now, and impatience had begun clawing at her. The floodgate had been opened in her breast and now she couldn’t quite let it stop now, but she did have to. She wanted to take something that wasn’t hers, and that she wasn’t even sure he would give.

Had he even really ever indicated that there was anything more than a bantering flirtation between them? Maybe that was all it was.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” she stepped back, hoping he would stop her, but knowing that he wouldn’t. Why should he? They didn’t know each other, and she was only going back to work. She put her gloves back on, “I’ll see you later, then, sir doctor,” she held her hand out for him.

He took her fingers daintily in his, savoring the moment of warmth that spread through him. He bowed over her hand, and pressed a chaste kiss to her gloved knuckle, “Soon, I hope, dear Zenia.”

She squeezed his hand and left the office, trying not to think about how annoyed Selena was going to be at her for missing so much work.

0x0x0

Back in the library, Julian got back to work, trying not to look into the dark glaring gaze of Asra. His golden arms were crossed over his chest, and his pout was the most enunciated that Julian had ever seen on anyone out of the nursery look as cute when they pouted. It was the oddest thing, noticing something so charming in someone you weren’t attracted to anymore. It would have charmed him once, but now he found himself trying to hold back a loud sigh and ask what he had done now.

In a way, he knew what he had done, but he didn’t know why it upset Asra as much as it seemed to.

“Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re so worried about,” Julian said after he couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

Asra was quiet, except for the deep annoyed breathing that came from his pile of cushions.

It wasn’t Julian’s fault, any way that Asra would try to spin it, anyway. Julian couldn’t help but feel drawn to Zenia in a way he couldn’t quite explain. There was something about her that even the briefest glance could send him into distraction. He barely even needed her to speak to him. He could content himself when necessary to just watch her. She could walk around the library dusting slowly while she had her nose stuck in a book, and it still made his head feel light.

“Are you feeling alright?” Asra asked.

Julian hadn’t even realized that he was staring into space. He was supposed to be working, but his mind kept wandering back to her. She was almost like an afterimage stuck in his eyes, “Yes of course.”

“Perhaps you should have her portrait done,” Asra said, keeping his features in check, “Then you could actually stare at her when she’s not around you.”

Julian blushed, and tried to control his face, “I don’t think a portrait would capture her.”

Asra’s brow furrowed. He didn’t like the sound of that. He didn’t like any of it, but he didn’t have anyone to blame but himself. Zenia’s face lit up around Julian, and he recognized it. He knew almost all of her emotions, and he’d seen her look at people that way when they were younger, when they were stealing and she was distracting their mark, but she had never looked so genuine. She’d never glowed like that, and it made Asra’s stomach turn.

“There’s a beauty that would escape the painters brush,” Julian said.

“That’s rather a poetic sentiment,” replied Asra, unnerved.

“Rather.”

“Who said it?”

“I don’t recall.”

“You hate romantic poetry.”

There was just a moment of hesitation, “I never said I hated it, I just haven’t had much time for it.”

“Did Zenia read it to you?”

Julian didn’t justify that question with an answer. There were two options here. Both were unpleasant. Either Asra was jealous about his ex moving on, or…

“Does she read to you often?”

“Not very,” Julian allowed.

“Is she your lover?”

“No,” Julian said, not looking up from his papers.

“But you want her.”

Julian took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck, “As it happens, there is very little chance of that ever coming to fruition. It would not be appropriate. She’s so young.”

“She’s only a couple years younger than I am!” Asra snapped, his crossed arms tightening, “As it happened, there was a time that I would have given anything for her to look at me that way,” he grumbled.

Julian bit back the aghast look that he would have made Asra realize how much he didn’t want to hear that. He wanted it to have just been a passing annoyance, “You never told me how it was you met her.”

“As she said, we were neighbors.”

“But you said you were a street urchin.”

“And so was Zenia,” Asra gestured vaguely, “she was among those of us that slept in a hovel under the docks, though you wouldn’t know it to look at either of us, now.”

Julian leaned back in his seat, pondering, “And she was a cut purse and a thief, too?”

“We all did what we had to. That’s how she learned to move so quickly and quietly. When she got old enough, she starting singing, at first on the street, then in a tavern called the Rowdy Raven. She was a distraction, while her partners worked the room,” Asra said, watching Julian, “That was before I lost track of her a few years back. We used to call her Fox.”

“Why?” Julian asked, thinking of the dark haired woman. There were dozens of animals he could think of that were more like Zenia in looks. He would have thought her more like a black bird, maybe a Starling.

“Because her sharp nose, and her large eyes, they were more prominent when she was smaller. I had a friend that insisted that it made her look like a rodent,” Asra admitted, “I never liked his phrasing, but…”

Julian hesitated, taking this information in, and trying to imagine it, though probably not the way Asra had meant for him to, “Was she ever caught? Arrested?”

“No, though there were a few close calls.”

Julian smiled, looking back at his papers, “So she’s always had gumption.”

Asra frowned, “It was a quality that I always loved in her.”

“But you never told her that.”

“No, I’m afraid I didn’t. But I would hope that as we hope to remain friends that you would have the decency to not… pursue…”

“The woman you love?” Julian asked, trying to inflect sympathy. He should be sympathetic.

“Don’t mock me,” Asra said, “You’ve never truly loved anyone. I’m only asking that you stop encouraging her. Don’t let her think that she can have a future with you.

“If I am not to mock you, I ask that you in turn do not insult me.”

“If you are going to launch into a dramatic speech about the tenderness of you affections and respect for her, I will ask you to stop. I’ve heard enough of your high prose,” Asra started to his feet.

“If I were to even think of allowing Zenia into my heart, it would put her in danger,” Julian said to remind himself as much as to convince Asra.

“Then for the first time, I can say that we are in agreement, and that I am glad of your suspicious mind,” Asra said, rising languidly from his cushions, leaving them on the floor. Julian could put them away when he was ready to, as he always did.

Julian let out the irritated breath that he hadn’t known he was holding in, and turned back to his calculations, as Asra left the library. The magician didn’t understand, nor did it seem would he try to. What sort of friends could they hope to be? But he was still right.

Zenia could never be happy with him, though she was all that occupied his thoughts of late, when he didn’t think of work. Their daily visits were the only thing compelling him to get out of bed in the morning. It was like the foolish cow-eyed crushes of a schoolboy.

He was never free of her, even in his dreams, which left him waking in cold sweats, his body aching in a way he couldn’t remember since the days of his adolescence. That was the thing he didn’t like about his affection for her, it made him feel like he was in love for the first time, all awkward uncertainty hidden to the best of his ability by bravado.

And it was like all of those stories that young people gobbled up like summer berries. There was nothing to stoke a passion like obstruction, even if it was a just one.


	6. Festival Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give a quick shout out to UnanymousLeftTest1cle, and viciti as well as all of our guests for their kudos! And a big thank you to Integrrra and Eris Hart for their comments! You guys are the best! You guys are my inspiration, and are the reason I'm able to get this story updated as often as I do!  
> xoxo

Julian had meant to work through the night, and should have done but the found himself halfway through a sandwich, squinting in the dim light of a lantern, when Zenia peeked around the corner. She didn’t always like sneaking up on people, but here she was, leaning against a shelf and watching him pore over his papers. She rapped her knuckles lightly against the wood of the shelf.

Julian turned to look at the source of the noise, startled. He had to register that he was looking at her a full moment longer than he should have, his tired mind not quite processing anything past the general shape of a woman; dark hair, large eyes…

He started up suddenly, knocking his chair back so that it rocked, almost toppling before it righted itself. “What are you doing here? At this hour?” He pinched his forearm behind his back to be sure he hadn’t dozed off again. He rubbed at his eyes a moment, trying to focus them.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she teased, trying not to sound disappointed by his questions. She had thought he would smile like he usually did. She hadn’t even realized how much she liked his smile until she didn’t see it, “Did I startle you?”

“Yes, actually,” he looked down smiling through his blush, “I didn’t expect to see you… I didn’t recognize you for a moment. I’m tired, I’m sorry,” he glanced her over quickly. Her dark hair hung around her face in dark waves, and that sight of that alone shook him. He had always imagined that her hair would be long, falling down to her waist, but it didn’t even reach her shoulders. He realized how much he had had thought about what she looked like, and built her into something she might not be.

She wasn’t wearing her red uniform, either, but a periwinkle blue short-sleeved dress. Her fingers were fidgeting with a dark blue shawl the color of a precious stone. It had small imperfect yellow flowers stitched in it and he wondered if she had done them herself. 

He had to take a deep breath as he noticed that she wasn’t wearing her corset, and the thought occurred to him that if he were to reach out and touch her, there would only be that thin summery material between his hand and her body. 

It was as if he was actually seeing her for the first time, and it thrilled him. She was herself made manifest, and she looked so much more comfortable. She was organically herself.

Her cheeks were flushed when he could look back at her face, and her voice had a small tremor to it, “I was thinking that you might need a break. You are coming to the festival, aren’t you?”

“It had completely escaped me,” he said with a tone that implied that this admission was an embarrassment, though he had mostly forgotten out of willfulness. 

His earlier conversation with Asra had put him off any sort of social engagement at which he might see the magician. Zenia would just be a painful casualty of that decision.

He was walking toward her slowly, “I don’t think I ought to. I’ve thought on it, and it might be a bit of an impropriety on my part. Especially considering that there is a grave illness in the city, and I am charged with finding a cure for it.”

“Oh, please do come! Selena was supposed to walk with me, but she’d gone off with her new girlfriend!”

He chewed his lip, “Then perhaps Asra would go with you.”

A strange look came over her face, “But I haven’t asked him. I asked you,” she watched him with more scrutiny than he liked, “Unless you think he’d be cross for my asking you.”

“I dare say he would, yes.”

“Then if he gives you any trouble, direct him to me. You’d only be making sure that I do not have to put up with any harassment on my way into town. It can be quite perilous out there in the dark. Anything might happen.”

“If I did not know for certain that you were a young lady of dignity and honor, I would mistake your words for flirting,” he smiled.

She grinned, “Rather, if I were a young lady of dignity and honor, like the ones here at court, you would have no confusion at my words at all.”

He felt like himself when he laughed with her. It was such a small thing, and if he tried to explain what about it even made him laugh he couldn’t.

“If you don’t come with me, Julian, I would have no one to protect me.”

“I doubt very much that you need anyone to protect you.”

“Well, do pretend with me,” Zenia said, putting the shawl over her hair, tossing an end over her shoulder, before reaching nervously out and taking his hand in hers, “Please?”

His resolve slipped away with that word, and he scooped his jacket up, “The front gates will be watched, and they won’t let me pass them. We’ll have to go out another way,” he led her along by the hand to that secret passage behind one of the bookshelves. It led out into the garden, and the sweet warm breeze was a relief. He stopped short of the gate that led out along the river, “I should have brought my mask.”

Her hand slid up his forearm, and rested in the crook of his arm, “You want to wear a plague doctor’s mask into a crowded festival? Do you want to cause a riot?”

He weighed her words, “I’m more concerned that I might be recognized.”

“Well, I can’t speak to that one way or the other, but I like your face, and I like seeing it.”

“I think you terribly forward, Miss.”

“Oh, hush, I know you like it.”

“Do I?”

“You told me once that you thought my brashness an asset,” she looked up at him.

He blushed to admit that he still did think so, “Coquettishness would not suit you. I don’t think there’s a single part of your character that could stand pretending to be anything but what you are. As it stands I know almost nothing about you at all. I have to imagine everything for you.”

She turned to walk backwards in front of him, facing him, “So Asra finally told you then? All about me?”

“That you were a street child? Yes,” he hesitated, feeling rather caught out, “He said you used to sing, while he cut purses.”

“Only after my body grew in. It was harder to get through a crowd with hips and well…” she gestured, as her voice faltered, “And now you think differently of me? Did you recoil at the thought of me singing in a tavern for my supper?”

“If I’m honest, no.”

“Why not?” she tilted her chin up at him. She wasn’t overly fond of the way he had said that. It was as if his first thought was to lie to her.

“I would be glad to know anything about you. I don’t care what it might be,” he was being honest, which was never a good idea, but there was something about her dark brown eyes that pulled the words out of him before he could stop them, “I don’t think there could be anything you could do that would make me recoil.”

“Never say never,” she slowed her steps, “I mean, we all have pasts, don’t we?”

“I’m serious,” he pressed a hand to her shoulder, “I don’t know you well as I would like to.”

“It would be hard to do that, if you had stayed home, though,” she turned around, her back to him, and forcing him to speed him up, “Or if you were to keep trying to push me away.”

He smiled, watching her as she had shorter legs than his, and that he could catch up to her quickly, “Yes,” he admitted, turning her gently, stepping in front of her, “I am here now, though,” he spread his arms wide in front of her like a carnival barker presenting a cure-all. 

She smiled up at him, taking his arm again, “Thank you, very much. I feel so much better with you here.”

“Any time I may be of service, miss.”

The city center was just coming into sight there in front of them. Zenia’s face it up, and her hand tightened on his arm, “Come on!”

If he ever spoke of that night again, he would speak about dizzying euphoria of people given free license to act freely and without restraint. There was an underestimated amount of wine and other less traditional substances that he was assured would open his mind to things beyond this world.

Zenia introduced him to many people, few of whom he would be able to remember if he tried, but he found himself staring across a bonfire at Asra. The moment of panic was not entirely abated by Zenia’s absence from his side, to get them both drinks. He immediately regretted suddenly not having done it himself. 

Julian wasn’t surprised to see Asra there, since he knew that he was supposed to be coming to the solstice festival, but it was just his luck that he ran into Asra only ten minutes into arriving. He composed his features in to a smile as he approached his ex-lover.

“Asra! How lovely to see you!” Julian smiled, “I must say I’m pleased to see a familiar face.”

“Is it?” Asra asked, not smiling, “As I have only just this afternoon asked you not to pay call on the young lady that you have just arrived with, I would rather doubt it.”

“I wanted to clear the air, and to explain myself,” Julian said, raising his hands to stop the verbal lashing he was sure was forthcoming, “I didn’t pay call on her. I told her that I didn’t think this was entirely appropriate, but the alternative was letting her walk the streets unaccompanied.”

“Such a gentleman,” Asra deadpanned with probably the flattest voice ever emitted by a human. Faust, his snake familiar twisted around his wrist perked her head up suddenly.

“Asra, darling!” Zenia called, grinning, her hands full of two tankards of ale, she passed Julian a tankard and reached out her hand to scratch Faust under her chin. The snake slithered up her arm, smoothing her head against her forearm, “Oh, hello dear.” Zenia rubbed her cheek against Faust’s head.

“She misses you,” Asra smiled. It actually made him feel better suddenly.

“Where have you been keeping her?”

“Literally anywhere out of sight,” Asra admitted, “The Count isn’t exactly fond of magic.”

“Oh, I forgot. Julian and I were just talking about you. He seemed to think you’d be cross with me for absconding with him!” She passed a tankard to Julian, her face the very image of innocence, as she turned her attention from Faust back to Asra, “I told him there was no way that my oldest friend would want me to be out alone on such a rowdy night, nor would he want his colleague to stay in all night with possibly the saddest sandwich I have ever seen on a gentleman’s plate.”

Julian made the most dedicated study of his boots than anyone else could have possibly done, deciding to study cobblestones when he couldn’t possibly look at his boots any longer.

“I told him that there must have been some mistake. You’d never have been so uncharitable, no matter the row you’d had,” Zenia smiled, her brow falling. It was a gauntlet thrown down in the arena of social niceties. Julian wondered for a moment if everything he had been told about Zenia had been a lie. She spoke with the forced politeness of a highborn lady, and it thrilled him.

“No of course not,” Asra said, reluctance dripping from every word, reaching his arm out to accept Faust back from her.

“Then that settles that, Julian. Asra, who I would note, is not my father, takes no issue with you escorting me. Have a wonderful rest of your evening,” she smiled, and leaned down to kiss Faust on the top of her head before pulling Julian away by his arm and guiding him in the opposite direction, “Was that terribly harsh?”

“May I speak plainly?” Julian asked, his breath short.

“Of course.”

“It may be rather vulgar,” he admitted, heat settling over him.

“Please?” she said, “It will bother me if I have to wonder about it.”

“If we were alone, I would fall to my knees in front of you and beg you to be forever my own,” he said, regretting his automatic honesty, “I think I should like to let you handle everything for the rest of my natural life.”

She stopped short in front of him, making him almost crash into her, his body arching over her as she tried not to collide into her. She pressed closer against him for a moment, before her face lit up, and a gleeful laugh left her before she pressed her hand over her mouth, “My goodness are you a masochist?” 

He didn’t know how to answer, though of course the truth of it was evident. She was pressing too close to him, and he was certain she could feel the effect her proximity was having on him.

“I don’t judge,” she quickly explained, trying to assure him, “I’m just surprised that you like to be subligated. Though I suppose you never know…”

“I would think you would be more than surprised,” he admitted.

“Not my first time, doctor, with that sort of inclination, I mean,” she drank deeply, cutting her eyes up at him, “If you behave, perhaps I’ll tell you about it.”

He hid his face in his ale, contemplated his reply, “You are going to be the root of my nightmares now.”

Zenia’s face fell, horror at her own impertinence burning its tracks over her cheeks, “I was only teasing you, Julian,” she reached for his hand, “I’m sorry. I really do like you, quite a bit.”

“I know, and uh, that isn’t what I meant, I’m afraid,” he squeezed her hand. He had to tell her to leave before it was too late. He had already said too much, and he had to stop this before he burst from want of her, “But as much as I might want to I can’t take you for my lover. We can’t be anything more than friends.”

“There are many ways that people can be friends,” she said before draining her tankard and going to refill it. She chugged down the entire tankard before refilling it again. There was a fire in her stomach as embarrassment filled her, and she had to try to quench it.

“Not in this case, I’m afraid,” he watched her, wanting to tell her to ease up and maybe eat something, “I have to focus on my work at hand, Zenia, I can’t have any distractions right now.”

“But Asra was good enough to distract you?” she quipped taking another drink.

“That was a mistake. I made a terrible mistake in him.”

“So you don’t want me, then?”

“I didn’t say that. In fact quite the opposite,” he admitted, “But I can not be what you deserve right now.”

“Is that your attempt at gallantry?” she asked, laughing, drinking more ale, before seeing his crestfallen face, “No, no. It’s cute.” Even as he was being an ass, she couldn’t be malicious to him.

He frowned, “Asra is as I can tell completely in love with you. Perhaps-“

“Perhaps I should run into his open arms, bemoaning your rejection until he kisses it all better?” her wide eyes were painful.

“You make it sound very-“

“Stupid?”

He winced, “Perhaps.”

“Well, I suppose nothing to be done about it,” she said, trying to be jovial, and adjusted her spectacles, setting her tankard down on a table nearby table, “Ah, there’s Selena now. I should go and say hello. Do enjoy your evening, and let me know when you’re ready to go,” she started to pass him, but paused, in front of him, tugging him down whisper in his ear, “Do be careful, there’s plenty of desperate folks about looking for warm partners. Unless you’re lonely, too, then be careful, please.”

He had to stoop to hear her whisper, and he felt the hairs at the back of his neck and all down his spine prickle and stand on end. He tilted his head just a little and breathed in the sweet smell of her hair. He felt his arm rising up to wrap themselves around her, moving without thought, pulling her into his chest as best as he could without standing back up. He let the weakness of his want waft over him. It would be just for a moment. This could be enough for now.

She didn’t move away from him as he held her, but reciprocated the embrace, her small hands clinging to him. He felt her turn her face to almost touch the side of his neck, to do the same thing he was. He could feel an eyelash as her eyes closed, “Kiss me there, and I think I could believe it’ll all be alright.”

Julian barely enough thought about it before placing one tender, lingering kiss just under her ear.

“Do you want one, or should I run off to my friends?” she whispered.

He hadn’t realized how tight the knot in his throat had become or how exhilarated he felt until he had to speak, “Nothing so gentle as that….” He felt her smile and that breathy laugh against his skin.

“Where should I mark you, then?” she asked, before running her tongue gently over the muscle at side of neck.

“Yes…”

She sank her teeth into his neck, squeezing the flesh there before releasing it and giving the mark another quick pass with her tongue, and an even quicker kiss, “I’d hate to part with you on bad terms, even if only for a moment.”

He cleared his throat, trying to regain his comportment, and it took a moment to remember that he sending her away, and why it was he was doing it, “No, I don’t think we should be on bad terms, at all.”

It was the first time he had actually been able to kiss her, and it had been so beautiful in its way, but it was also not what he had thought. It wasn’t quite the passionate embrace he had hoped for, but then that was life. It was never exactly what he expected, he thought watching her go. His hand lingered in hers as long as he could, their arms outstretched between them like a lifeline, until she was too far from him, and he had to let go.


	7. Serendipitous Improprieties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, heybay101 (Ignite_the_Passion) for your kudo and your wonderful comment!!!

Zenia found herself many drinks and several hours later at Mazelinka’s tiny food stall, and experienced the exuberant joy that only drunk people can experience upon finding bread with cheese melted into it.

“Auntie, I declare you the best of all the saints of this world!” Zenia slurred as the old woman guided her to a tiny stool behind the stall, clucking the most tender of disapprovals.

“Hush your noise now or I will die of my pride, and you will have to take my store over,” Mazelinka chided, “Think how that would please Eudora.”

“I care not a pin,” Zenia leaned her head on the side of the table, “You’re more family to me than she was anyhow.” She hated being reminded of that foul old bird, “She died last year anyhow, so unless you’ve got her ghost trapped in one of your bottles, I doubt it would be a trouble.”

Mazelinka sat next to Zenia, pressing a cold cloth to the side of Zenia’s neck, “I am sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be,” Zenia turned her head to peer at Mazelinka before stuffing her mouth. She had to sober up some before she did something stupid.

“I know you never got on well with her, but your Aunt was not a bad woman. She was hard because life made her hard, and you can’t blame her for that.”

“Life’s been hard on you, but you’re still kind,” Zenia pointed out.

Mazelinka rose from her perch slowly as a gruff customer approached the stall, and patted Zenia’s head tenderly. Zenia finished off the resurrection brew that Mazelinka handed her before getting to her feet. She felt better already, not quite sober, but she felt like she could at least walk a straight line, and not vomit in a gutter.

How had she even let herself get so intoxicated? She wanted to lay the blame at the feet of the stupid doctor, but he couldn’t be mad at him for trying to not let distractions stop him from doing his work. She leaned against the side of Mazelinka’s stall for a moment, thinking about what to do next.

“Your change,” Mazelinka’s gravely voice pulled Zenia’s attention back to the customer who seemed to be leering at her, a lopsided smile spread across his swollen face.

She smiled politely back and looked quickly away, a chill settling in the pit of her stomach.

0x0x0

Julian took another exasperated breath, “I do not want to beleaguer the point, but I did what you asked, thought I must say that I’m fairly sure that she would be rather offended if she knew we were making decisions for her.”

“Do you ever actually hear the words that come out of your mouth?” Asra asked, “Because from I remember, you’re rather comfortable with making decisions for other people.”

Julian took another drink, glancing over at where Zenia was, leaning against a stall, smiling at a rather bloated man that seemed to be paying her very close attention. There was something he recognized about the set of her shoulders, something in the tilt of her chin, and the set of her eyes. The smile that flitted across his lips was almost cruel; he knew that fool was in for a brawl if he didn’t back off her. There was a part of him that wanted to hurt to her rescue, but he couldn’t. He had been keeping his eye out for her, trying to make sure he knew where she was. He felt like a stalker following her with his eyes.

“You should really get a new hobby,” Julian said, “This one seems rather tiring, and if I may say perfunctory.”

“You’re starting to sound like her,” Asra said, annoyed. Zenia had learned to read when they were children, insisting that they should all to their best to read. It had annoyed him, when she slipped triple syllable words into otherwise normal conversations. They were always words that would lead to eye rolling or in some cases exasperation. The sentiment had become that she felt that she was better than every one of their peers.

Asra took a deep breath, stroking Faust’s back, “I just want to protect her. She’s always been reaching for something above her head, and along you come.”

“What does that mean?”

Asra took a shaking breath, “You met her a few weeks ago, and you think you know everything about her?” Asra’s eyes went wide, and he turned suddenly to look away.

Julian was midway through formulating a retort when there was a sudden hush. He didn’t notice, and tried to press on, “I don’t think-“

Asra’s hand gripped Julian’s arm silencing him.

Julian turned to follow Asra’s line of sight to where Zenia had been standing a moment ago. It took his brain a moment to process through the fuzziness of ale to notice that Zenia wasn’t standing there anymore. It took him another moment to realize that she had the man that had been looming over her pinned under her knee with a knife pressed to his throat.

“Oh,” Julian said, his mouth hanging open. He moved without thinking and he moved slowly thought the crowd, his hand gently moving people out of his way as he went. He lingered near Zenia, not sure what to do. The man reached an arm up and struck a blow to the side of her head knocking her glasses off. Her head snapped back in place rearing back before smashing her forehead against his, and pressed the blunt edge of the knife firmly under his chin.

Something came over Julian, and for a moment he couldn’t move. He’d never been in this sort of situation before; or rather… he tried to keep his mind clear, not to go down that hole in his brain where all those bloody horrors lived. He felt his feet start to dip in.

He’d seen worse things than this as a medic, but his mind went there anyway. War, blood and death streamed into his mind against his will. He pressed a hand against the side of the stall to steady himself, his jaw clenched as he focused on his breathing. No, he had to do something. He couldn’t just stand here; Zenia needed him to do something.

“Let me up,” the man begged, trying to move from under her.

“Stop squirming, or you’ll cut yourself,” Zenia said in an eerily calm voice, “Now, I want you to listen very closely, and think about this moment every time you bother a woman that is clearly uninterested.” She adjusted her knee in the center of his chest, “Now, it is inadvisable to ever offer a woman money, no matter how inebriated you are. I am not a whore. Please respond that you understand.”

“I understand.”

“Good. And also please do not ever grab another woman after her rebuff.”

“Yes, miss.”

She rolled away, sitting on the ground, scanned the ground, squinting to try to find her glasses. Julian hesitated, breathing deeply before he crouched down in front of her to pick her glasses up out of the dirt.

He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped them clean before he handed them to her, “Well, I suppose it’s going to be harder to pretend that you need protecting.”

She blushed, putting her spectacles on, “Yes, well, I’m sure we’ll manage it.” She looked at him carefully, noting the tremor in his voice.

He offered her a hand up, glancing over her head at the man that was running as fast as he could away from her. He was coming out of it, whatever that had been.

Zenia’s hand was on his, stabilizing him. He felt as though there was some calming energy in her hand, flowing into him. She didn’t say anything, but watched him until his breathing slowed back down, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I honestly don’t know what even came over me. It was just a silly…” he was looking at her, “Do you ever feel like every terrible thing that’s ever happened is crushing you?”

“Like a panic?”

“I don’t know why it happens, but it does. Though, it’s never been done so quickly as that,” There was something dawning in his mind, “How did you manage it?”

She smiled, “you think you’re the only one with healing hands?”

He smiled at her, “That’s a funny thing to say when you’re holding such a large knife.”

“Oh, yes,” she looked mildly aghast, “Oh, Mazelinka I took your bread knife!”

“Yeah, I want that back,” Mazelinka snatched the serrated knife from Zenia’s hand, “Silly girl. Why can’t you ever just mind yourself?”

“Sorry,” Zenia pouted, “But he was being such a dreadful oaf.”

“I agree, but if you had slashed his throat open, we wouldn’t have any more bread, would there?” the old woman sliced off a piece of bread, and offered it to Julian, “Who is your friend?”

“This is Doctor Devorak,” Zenia patted his arm.

“Julian, please,” he smiled, offering her his hand to shake.

Mazelinka craned her neck as she took his hand, her other hand pressed on top of her head to stop her shawl from slipping off of her head, “My goodness, you don’t need any stepstools, do you?”

“I suppose not,” Julian chuckled, glancing down at Zenia, “I’ve never thought about it.”

“Well, aren’t you fortunate?”

“Don’t worry, you get used to looking up,” Zenia teased her, “This is my auntie Mazelinka. The best healer and cook in the whole of Vesuvia.”

“Oh, Asra works for you,” Julian smiled, “he’s been working with me at the palace.”

“I don’t know who that is,” Mazelinka smirked up at him, “She calls me that, but I am not in anyway related to her.”

“Except in my heart,” Zenia said wistfully.

“Eat something, drunky,” Mazelinka shoved more cheese bread at the young woman, “You have been escorting her, then?”

“I walked her here-“

“Do better at escorting her, please. Last thing I need is that one finally getting arrested because she forgot where she put her feet.”

“I am not that drunk!” Zenia protested, “And also, I don’t even think the guards could catch me, since they’re all in the sack, too.”

“Sweet child,” Mazelinka chided with no actual scold to her words before turning back to Julian with suspicion, “You’re a doctor?”

“I am yes,” Julian smiled, feeling suddenly as if he was about to be interrogated.

Zenia’s head turned slowly to look around them before slipped away, apparently having forgotten that she was talking to anyone.

“Zenia?” Julian started, watching her wander off toward a circle of people dancing around the bonfire in the center of the open space of the festival.

“Oh, you’re new, then?” Mazelinka asked, pouring him a glass of wine.

“Pardon?” he asked, accepting the glass, “Thank you.”

“When she drinks she tends to wander,” Mazelinka said, pouring her own glass and holding it up to tap her glass against his.

“Well at least I know she can take care of herself,” Julian smiled sipping the wine, “We have a friend in common, who keeps alluding to some darkness in her past besides what I know. She wasn’t a serial killer was she?” he joked, laughing.

Mazelinka stared at him, her head tilted a little.

Julian’s smile fell away, “She isn’t a serial killer is she?”

The laugh that came out of the old woman was a relief and a joy, “No, you silly thing. Of course not.”

“You know her well, then?”

“Well enough. She used to turn up to help me with house work when she was little.”

“But you didn’t take her in?”

“No, but I offered to apprentice her, but she didn’t take to it,” Mazelinka eyed him, watching as he kept looking over his shoulder to make sure that Zenia was still dancing.

He wanted to go to her, but he did have to remind himself that he had made the choice to let her go. He wondered if he could live with himself just watching her. She turned and twirled and he felt himself smiling as he saw how happy she looked, in spite of the dull ache just under his ribs in that essential organ that seemed so desperately tied to every emotion.

“Stop being a baby, and go dance with the girl already,” Mazelinka rasped at him.

“What? Oh, no, no, I see where you might think that we are romantically involved, but no, we’re just friends,” Julian smiled, waving his hand, trying to dismiss the idea as ridiculous.

Mazelinka did not look in the least bit convinced of his explanation, “Don’t make me repeat my sentiment, doctor. I’m not stupid.”

He smiled, “I like you.”

“I know,” she grinned up at him, showing him a mouth of worn silver teeth, “I have that effect on most men.”

He laughed before turning to peer at the dancers again, scanning for the color of Zenia’s dress.

“When you get older, you regret the things you didn’t do more than the ones that you did,” Mazelinka said, pulling her stool over to sit down in front of him, “There will be a day where your knees will give out, or your back will turn on you every time you feel rain coming, and even worse no one asks you anymore, then the only thing you’ll have is remembering that once you might have danced.”

Julian smiled, before finishing the glass of wine and went around behind the small stall’s table, and bowed, offering his hand to her, “Come then, and dance with me.”

She swatted at his hand, “Oh get on, you charmer.”

“I think you will find that I am annoyingly persistent, madam,” Julian grinned.

“Oh, alright, doctor,” she accepted his hand and rising slowly from her seat, and grasping at his forearm for stability, “But not too fast, this hip isn’t what it used to be.”

“I will do my best. Please call me Ilya,” he said, walking her toward the bonfire.

“Wasn’t it Julian?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

He hesitated, realizing his mistake a moment too late; “I changed my name a few years ago.”

“Why?”

“A doctor whose name contains the word ‘ill’ does not typically bode well.”

“I suppose that’s fair enough, though Julian sounds like a pretentious name to me.”

He frowned, carefully maneuvering Mazelinka around a pothole, “What would you pick if you had to change your name?”

“I don’t know actually. I’ve had my name longer than you’ve been alive.”

“I should certainly hope so,” Julian teased her, “Otherwise I would have to ask why you picked the one you have.”

She pinched his arm, “mind yourself, boy.”

“Yes, madam,” he bowed his head, respectfully, confused for a moment as Mazelinka let go of his arm when they got closer to the dancers. He turned to suddenly concerned that he had underestimated any physically ailment that may have plagued the old woman, “Are you alright, madam?”

“Yes, yes,” she paused a moment as if pondering some deeply witty comment that she had been waiting to reveal.

He started to lean forward to check her over for any signs of pain, “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to overexert-“

Mazelinka reached forward and turned him around before pushing him square in the back and knocked him back into Zenia, who caught him as she was in the middle of turning, knocking her out of her place.

“Oh, hey,” she grinned up at him, pulling him along with the circle of dancers, “Are you alright?”

He craned his neck to look back at Mazelinka who was started back to her booth, “That sneaky…”

“Auntie pulled one over on you, then?” she asked, taking his hand in hers.

“I suppose she did,” he allowed, trying not to laugh at the entire situation.

“Then I suppose you’ll just have to dance with me,” she smiled, “Too bad for you.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he placed his hand at the small of her back, and turning with her.

“Friends can dance, then?” she slid her hand to his upper arm.

He paused looking down at her with a smile, “Yes. I suppose they can.”

She stepped a little closer to him, looking down at her feet to try to find his pace. He spread his hand wider over the small of her back, pulling her closer to him, “Have you enjoyed yourself?”

“Yes, for the most part, I did. Though, I think I may have made a bit of a fool of myself.”

“What’s a drunken revel without an anticlimactic bar fight,” Julian said, trying to maintain a serious face.

She looked up, at him a moment before smacking his arm, “You clearly were watching a different fight entirely, you silly man.”

He grinned down at her, “Yes well, I doubt you would like me as much if I were completely without any mirth,” he slowed their steps, watching her.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing. I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He couldn’t say what he was thinking without sounding like an idiot.

Concern wrinkled her brow for a moment before she checked herself and smiled, “It’s getting late. We should go home, shouldn’t we?”

“One more drink,” he said, giving her his arm, “I’m not ready to go back to the real world.”

“What do you mean?”

He tried to think of the way to say what he was thinking, “I feel like I’ve made a mistake.”

“What do you mean?” Zenia asked, leaning back against the table as Julian paid for two more tankards of ale.

“I don’t want you to think that I was wrong in telling you that I’m not the right person to make you happy,” he said, walking on to sit on a bench under a tree, patting the seat next to him.

“But?” she asked, sitting next to him, sipping her ale.

“But, I should have just enjoyed the evening rather than…”

“Pushing me away?”

Julian looked away, “This whole evening is like a place removed from everything, and there’s something that Mazelinka said that has made me realize that I’m going to regret not spending tonight with you.”

She smiled at him, “Yeah, I know. But if I may, it seems like you’re terrible at pushing me away, and the evening isn’t over.”

“I know, and I want to spend what time I have left with you.”

“You know it doesn’t have to end,” Zenia said, touching his hand, “I know you aren’t ready for anything serious right now, but-”

“No, I want something serious, and I want something serious with you,” he turned his head to look at her, taking her hand in his, “I wish we had met at any other time. Any other time, and I would do everything in my power to woo you.”

“You know that there isn’t going to be any other time we have, but what we do have,” she squeezed his hand, “You can’t live your entire life thinking that there’s a better time.”

He took a swig from his ale before reaching out to her and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, “Maybe someday I’ll learn that.”

“You are the worst person I’ve ever met!” she laughed, pulling away from him and taking a long drink.

“Careful,” he reached out his hand and plucked a few small flowers that had fallen from the tree boughs into her hair. The small pale purple buds sat on his palm as it lay open to her.

“May I?” she reached her hand up over his.

“Of course,” he watched her take a handkerchief from the small pouch on her belt before plucking the blossoms from his hand, wrapping them gingerly, and putting them in the small pouch, “You like your mementos,” Julian smiled sliding his arm along the back of the bench behind her.

“I will treasure them forever,” she said, smiling at him, her chin tilted slightly up.

He set his empty tankard on the bench next to him, looking at her. He reached his hand out to touch Zenia’s cheek, pulling her face closer to him. He leaned his forehead against hers for a moment. He wanted to kiss her, to pull her as close as he could stand to, close enough even to absorb her body into his, but there was that last instant that it would take to make that move haltered his hands. Just this moment, his eyes closed in reverence, allowing him nothing more than what he deserved, “We should be getting back.”

“If you insist,” Zenia smiled, accepting his hand up off the bench.

He guided her hand to the crook of his arm, and pressed his hand firmly over it, “I’m trusting you to protect my honor. There are so many ruffians out and about.”

0x0x0

Zenia leaned against him as they entered the gardens again, her voice light and floating with laughter as she teased him. She hurried ahead of him, and turned back to see him jogging after her, a smile lighting his face. She ran faster, leaping up on the ledge of a fountain where she finally slowed. She paced slowly around the stone ledge, looking into the dark water. He reached up to offer her his hand, “Careful now.”

“Are you so terribly afraid that I will fall and be hurt?”

“No, I’m afraid you’ll be wet, and then you’ll have to drip all over the floors that your coworkers have labored over,” Julian replied.

“How wonderfully considerate of you,” she grinned.

“I do try, dear Zenia,” he said, smiling as a thought occurred to him.

“What?”

“I just realized that you are finally able to look at me without having to look up.”

She stopped and looked at him, realizing that he was taller than him now, “I can see past the top of your head,” she giggled, putting her hands on his shoulders, “I think I shall live on this fountain forever!”

“A noble plan, mistress Zenia,” he bowed his head, “I find no fault in it at all. Well, except rain.”

She took a deep laughing breath, looking down at him. He was close to her, and she felt him moving nearer as if compelled. She could see his face so clearly, and could see every minor imperfection in his visage, and wondered if he was making as close a study of her features as she was of his. Her hand reached up slowly to touch his cheek, to feel that soft skin where the prickling burrs of stubble were coming in now. In the morning his jaw would be covered in tiny stars of golden light.

She looked back to his eyes and saw them staring unendingly into her own, pulling her closer into him. His arms were sliding around her slowly, those delicately beautiful hands splaying gently over her back, guiding her to him. Those lips that her every instinct had told her not to look at were parted so slightly, spreading his warm breath over her cheeks. She moved her hand to cradle his head before pressing forward against him, kissing the lips that she was certain would be her damnation.

Julian didn’t resist her, telling himself that it was only one night. He embraced her fully, holding her against him as if he wouldn’t let her go ever again. Zenia pulled back for a moment to look at him. He grinned at her, marveling at her smile as she felt her whole body glowing under his attention. He leaned forward to capture her lips again, swinging her in a wide circle. He felt her lips part under his in a grin as she laughed, clinging tight to him. Zenia’s face pressed into the crook of his neck to quiet the peels of laughter that poured out of her, until he slowed, and pressed a kiss against the side of her neck.

When he set her gingerly back down, she felt the grass under her shoes and the warm night air on her skin, intensified by the gooseflesh that covered her body. He bent to look at her, pressing his forehead to hers.

It was a whisper so soft when she finally spoke again that he almost didn’t hear it, “Take me to your room.”

He hesitated, “Alright.” He held her face in his hands, his thumbs tenderly caressing her cheeks. Her hand reached up for him, pressing another kiss against his lips before taking his hand in hers and hurrying toward the palace.

They were each so fascinated by the other that they didn’t notice the pale figure of the Count watching them from the balcony of his tower.


	8. Consequences and Blessings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all!  
> So this is going to be a longer chapter with a lot of dialog, even for me. There's some backstory for Julian completely made up in my own mind. None of this is based on anything at all from the game, so bear with me. I hope you enjoy!  
> xoxo

Their bodies crashed into each other once in the confines of Julian’s chambers, the door closing behind them as he pushed it over and over trying to keep it shut while trying to press closer to Zenia. He fumbled awkwardly and trying pushing the lock home, but gave up after a few attempts at the lock, and returned his full affections to Zenia. The rooms were dark, though they maneuvered it with only the smallest difficulty incurred only by their embrace.

Zenia pulled back giggled and working over the ties at the front of her dress that went from the bottom of collarbones down her ribs, her fingers slipping drunkenly over the laces. Julian smiled, watching the shape of her in the moonlight. He unbuttoning his waistcoat as he watched her and tossing it aside before he started toward her, slowing her hands with his, “I don’t think that we should sleep together just now, I mean I don’t think...”

She looked up at him, her spectacles slipping on her nose, “I’m sure you’re right.” Her cheeks were flushed pink from drink and the exhilaration of his proximity, “Do you want me to go?”

“No, I want you to stay forever,” he admitted, releasing her hands, “and if we hadn’t both had as much to drink, I would take you to bed without hesitation, but I doubt that would end well for either of us just now.”

“How do you mean?” she asked, her brain moving along sluggishly. When he didn’t answer, but rather raised a brow at her significantly, she grinned, “Oh!”

“Yes alcohol can have its shortcomings, at least romantically,” he smiled, taking one of her hands tenderly in his, stroking the back of it, “I want you to stay, but I’m not a very good sleeper.”

“Bad dreams?” she reached up and stroked his hair out of his pale grey eyes.

“In the simplest terms, yes,” he leaned into her touch.

“Then I’ll stay and help you,” Zenia smiled at him, giving his earlobe a tug, before moving to sit on the edge of his bed, “We can just sleep. But could you help me get out of this dress. It’s the only one I have.”

“Of course,” he smiled, kneeling in front of her, helping her, “I’ll have to…” he faltered. He was going to say that he should buy her another dress. The one she was wearing was lovely, but careworn, and he could see where it had been mended over and over.

“Have to...?” she asked.

He smiled, “it was nothing,” he said, finishing her laces slowly, his hands stopped at the bottom laces, and spread themselves over her ribs, savoring the feel of her body’s warmth spreading under her dress.

Her arms sat at her sides as she watched him, a gentle smile on her lips. Julian peeled back the opening of her dress, glancing up at her quickly to ensure she wasn’t enraged by his forwardness, but found her smiling down at him. He leaned forward to rest his head against her breastbone, feeling her heartbeat against his cheek. Her fingers tangled up in his hair, holding him as she rested her head on his. She was almost certain that she could love him if he would allow it.

“You must rest, dear doctor,” she whispered into his curly hair. He pulled back from her as if startled entirely by how much he had let his guard down to her.

Julian settled on the bed next to her, taking his boots off, “You’re right. I swear I could have fallen asleep as I was.” He blushed, glancing at her from the corner of his eye as she undressed, and standing in a thin shift. The only light in the room poured in through the window from the full moon, letting him see her silhouette through the thin linen material.

Reaching out suddenly, he pulled her into his arms, holding her close and pulling her to open the bed, and kissing her face gently as if he was afraid that he might break her. She grinned in the dark, setting her glasses away on a side table by the bed, before pulling his shirt off over his head, straddling him before gripping him close again, finding his lips in the darkness.

0x0x0

Selena’s head whirled in an aggravating mix of hangover and the rage at Zenia’s absence in the morning. She hadn’t come to breakfast, or even showed herself as the day’s work had begun. That said she was starting to think that she had made a grave mistake that morning, even as she barged into the Doctor’s rooms, Zenia’s work effects in tow along with her baskets.

The maid stopped short in the bedroom door to see them. Zenia was nestled close in the doctor’s arms, and he in hers. Her head was under his chin, and his face was in her hair, and Selena knew she shouldn’t be quite as angry as she should. She raised her gloved hand and banged it against the headboard, startling them both up out of dreams and into the blinding light of hangover.

“Would it please your ladyship to get some work done today?” Selena asked, her glare vibrating with rage.

“My god, what time is it?” Zenia asked, panic setting in as she leapt out of bed.

Julian stared blearily about the room as if trying to comprehend what had fallen on his head to make it hurt so terribly. His eyes focused on Zenia dressing in a panic, and tried to process it, He looked at Selena, realization dawning on him, and he slowly pulled the covers up over his bare chest, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Selena bobbed in a curt salutation, before lacing Zenia into her corseted dress harder than necessary.

Zenia rushed to pick her glasses up off of the table, and picking up a small flask from the pouch from the night before and drank from it quickly, before handing the flask to Julian, “Drink this, it will help with the pain. I'll get the flask from you later.”

“Thank you,” he smiled at her, brushing her fingers with his own before grasping her hand quickly and pulling her close to kiss her, ignoring her coworker's glare, “Enjoy your day, my dear one.”

She swatted at him, trying not to notice the marks she’d left on his neck and chest the night before, “Get on with you!” She leapt away putting on her spectacles, hurrying to wrap her hair up, and cursed herself for not waking up earlier. She didn’t have any pins for her hair and thick waves of it hung around her face.

The maids went through their assigned rooms in prolonged silences that felt wrong. They were such close friends, and they hadn’t ever worked in such silence before.

“I’m so sorry,” Zenia said, feeling embarrassed.

“I know, I know,” Selena frowned.

“Will you be angry with me forever?”

“Look, I don’t care what you do in your personal life,” Selena snapped, “I couldn’t care less if you were up all night in the throes of passion, but you are here to work, not to fuck like a rabbit's whore.”

Zenia felt the hairs at the back of her neck bristle, “As you are upset, I won’t hold you to your words.”

“Do what you want with my words,” Selena scoffed.

Selena didn’t say anything else, and it was harder and harder for Zenia to bear that Selena wouldn’t even look at her. There was something at the back of Zenia’s mind. She couldn’t quite figure it out, but something was wrong, beyond just Selena’s annoyance. Her nerves kept prickling up the back of her neck, and in the pit of her stomach.

Zenia was so wrapped up in those thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the sound of metallic, armored footfalls in the hallway until they were coming into the room. She glanced at Selena, being the senior between them for some explanation, but Selena didn’t even meet her eye. Selena didn’t even look up from the coverlet she was straightening.

The guards entered the room. She recognized one as a boy that had grown up in a house near the docks, Grigory. The superior of the two scanned her over, “Miss Zenia Marin?”

“Yes?” she asked, looking nervously between the guards. She thought she might be in trouble for being late to work, but this seemed extreme.

“You’re to come with us now, Miss,” said the older guard, a prickly middle-aged man.

“For what reason?” she asked, mentally going through every law she knew regarding rights around arrests, slim though they were.

Neither guard answered her, as she turned to look at Selena who had stepped back, pressing her back against the wall and was looking down. Zenia watched her for a moment, the feeling of betrayal building in her stomach, a fresh layer on top of her already raw nerves.

She walked towards the guards, untying her kerchief as she went and wringing it between her hands, trying to formulate an escape plan. There wasn’t one that she could think of that wouldn’t end in her being stabbed by a guard’s sword. Especially since she didn’t even know why she was being detained, or for what device.

0x0x0

Julian rubbed his head, blessing Zenia’s entire being for her magic draught that had saved him from being incapable of moving. He scribbled out a long, and completely unreadable stream of information without looking away from the blood sample as it reacted to the serum he had mixed and let ferment. He looked through the magnifier, watching the cells decrease in size.

“Pardon me, doctor?”

He looked up at the maid, Selena. He gave her a polite smile “Oh, hello. How can I help you?” He looked back into the magnifying scope.

“You’re being summoned, sir. The Count want to see you in your room as soon as it please you, sir,” Selena looked paler than usual, and deeply upset.

“I’m in the middle of a test that I need to finish off, and I’ll be up as soon as I can. It might actually be a break through,” Julian smiled, looking at the blood sample again. It seemed to have a reaction to salt and high levels of heat, which was frustrating, as those infected usually suffered brain damage from their high fevers.

He glanced up at the maid still standing at the side of his desk, “Is there anything else?”

“It’s really rather urgent.”

“I understand that, but I am working on a cure for the plague. If there’s any development here, I need to be able to observe it so that I can tell the Count whether or not there might actually be progress.”

“I know, but… I really think that maybe…” she faltered.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, suddenly aware of how odd this whole situation felt.

“I can’t say sir, but-“

He studied the blood sample through the magnifying glass, chewing his bottom lip. The blood appeared to be undulating. When he looked up, Selena was gone, “Tell the Count I will be up as soon as I can.”

0x0x0

Zenia sat on the floor in her shift, her arms crossed awkwardly over her chest. The Count had insisted that she take off her uniform because as he said, “You no longer work for me.”

It was more awkward than anything else. She had expected to have the shit beaten out of her, but no she had just been undressed and made to sit on the floor like a lapdog. There were few events in her life that had been as humiliating as this was. She was also enraged that Julian was talking so long. Damn these intricate wooden floors and their complete lack of comfort on the knees. She hadn’t even realized that she had bad knees until having to kneel on parquet boards for damn near an hour.

Julian opened the door, “So I found something that might be significant. It would seem that your sample reacted to a saline solute-“ he stopped short when he looked up.

“You are so late,” Zenia grumbled.

“What is happening here?” Julian asked, panic flooding him.

“Oh, I’ve just been having a lovely chat here with your girlfriend,” the Count said, patting Zenia’s head, “She’s a perfectly charming young lady.”

Julian gripped his papers, “I may have found something, and I think I can build a new treatment around it in a few days.”

“I’ve heard that quite a few times now, Jules, and I must say that I am rather disappointed in your progress, this far. I don’t know what on earth is delaying your progress. I think that perhaps I need to find you a better incentive.”

“Please let her go,” Julian said quietly, panic turning to rage, “Please.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t harm a hair on her head, yet of course,” The Count forced himself up with the help of his canes, “I think perhaps you don’t react well to threats. So perhaps a positive incentive instead.”

Julian watched the Count nervously. He looked so much worse than he yet had. It was almost a credit to him that he had lasted against an illness that had kills hundreds in the time that he had been contaminated.

“I make you a gift of her,” Lucio said, smiling up at Julian, “I thought that might be nice seeing as you are so very fond of her.”

“Thank you your lordship, but I think I should protest. I don’t fully understand what you mean in this. She’s a free woman, you can’t give her to me,” Julian said slowly.

“Oh, can’t I? Who would come looking for her if anything were to happen to her?” Lucio asked, “If I were to have my guards toss her from the roof, would anyone come and file grievances?”

“Her Aunt-“

“Ah, yes, of course, her Aunt Eudora who died last winter. I’m sure she would be quite a hassle for our solicitor,” The Count’s laugh was wheezy, “Come now, don’t look so terribly aghast, she’s a peace offering. And from what I’ve heard there’s been some annoying and tired back and forth over your affections for each other. No further need for that, is there? No, I think you’ll find her to be quite a compliant little commodity.”

Julian was horrified by the implications of what Lucio was saying, his eyes shooting to Zenia’s enraged face, “What you’re describing is slavery.”

“No, no, slavery is not strictly speaking legal,” the Count leaned against one of the bed’s posters, “Prostitution however is more of a grey area. I don’t remember you ever having had a problem with whores during the war.”

Zenia’s face darkened, turning harsher, “I will not stand for this.” She didn’t know what the Count’s statement was supposed to mean, but she could only imagine. It didn’t help that Julian didn’t say anything to contradict the Count on the topic of prostitution, but that would be a question for another time.

The guard Grigory’s hand held her in place when she started to stand, pushing her back down. He looked apologetic, “Sorry, Miss Zenia.”

“Fuck you, Grigory,” She snapped, “This is morally incomprehensible.”

The Count turned his head to look at her, “Pardon me?”

“If you are displeased with my service then I ask you to just release me, and I will go, but I am not some bit of property that can be passed from one hand to another.”

“Maybe she won’t be so compliant, but I’m certain you will enjoy her willfulness,” he reached out with the handle of his cane and stroked it against her cheek, “She isn’t an ugly thing, so I’d appreciate your gratitude.”

“This is very gracious of you, my lord,” he said, venom dripping from his every word.

“She is no longer employed by the palace, but I shall have one of my servants checking in on her. I want to make sure that she’s comfortable here. I wouldn’t want the newest member of our little family to feel less than pampered,” he looked over his shoulder to roar at Zenia, “say thank you.”

“Thank you,” Zenia grimaced, her nails digging into her crossed arms to stop her from saying anything that might make things worse.

“Good, I would hate to have to move her down to the dungeons. I’m going to have something sent up for her to wear. Poor people clothes make me sad,” The Count said, his nose curling as he looked at her dress where it still lay over the back of a chair. “Please don’t make me come back down here. The tower has too many stairs and my back hurts.”

“Perhaps we could move you to a different floor?” Julian asked.

“If I come back down here again and you haven’t made progress I will have to think of something else to incentivize you,” The Count’s bloodshot eyes flamed with the threat of an unbridled fury before his maniacal smile flitted back in place, “I’ll leave you to getting your new maid settled in.”

He hobbled out of the room like the grim reapers abusive father, his guards at his heels. Julian wondered if they would have to carry him up the stairs to his tower room. He waited until the door closed before rushing toward Zenia, and stooping to help her up, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what was happening, I thought the Count was just asking for an update on my research and I was in the middle of-“

“I know, I know,” Zenia winced standing up, gripping his hand tight.

“Are you ok?” he asked, “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“I’ve been kneeling on a wooden floor for the last hour and a half,” she said sitting on the bed and stretching her legs out slowly, “I’m so fortunate they didn’t interrogate me. I would have broken after ten minutes.”

“I thought the Count said you were having a chat?” Julian glanced around the still rather disheveled room. He wasn’t sure what this meant for Zenia. Was she in charge of his affairs now? It would make sense, but he wasn’t sure how any of this was meant to work, from a social standpoint.

“No, we didn’t talk at all. I tried to talk to him about the weather to be polite, and he just sat there quietly. It was so weird,” Zenia watched him, nervously.

He picked up a dressing robe from behind a chair and wrapped it around her, touching her cheek, “I’m so sorry this has happened to you. I was afraid of something like this might... ” He looked at the floor, at the headboard, anywhere but at her. There were few things he could bear as much as the realization that he hadn’t been able to save her from this humilation. He couldn’t look at her, not yet.

She took his arm, and pulled him to sit down next to her, “It could be worse, right?” she leaned her head against him, wrapping her arms around his, “It’ll be alright.”

“You aren’t upset?”

“Oh, I’m furious, but that wouldn’t help anything, would it?” she looked up at him, “We’ll think of something.”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. He smoothed his hand over her hair, “Of course we will. I’m going to keep you in my protection. I’m going to keep you safe.”

She bit back a retort to his promise. She wanted to tell him that The Count could come back in here whenever he wanted and kill the both of them without any concern for the repercussions, but that wouldn’t help anything now. She knew he was thinking it, too, and she knew she needed to protect him as well. She nestled closer to him, gripping the front of his waistcoat.

“You can leave,” he whispered into her hair, pulling back to look down at her. “Go out through the gate I showed you and get on a ship.”

“Alright,” she nodded, “We can go far away where he won’t be able to get at us.”

He smiled balefully, “I can’t go with you. I can’t just leave all these people to die, Zenia. I’m already notorious. No one would ensure my safety. If I left, The Count would come for me, but you can have a new life in some far flung part of the world. Change your name, and disappear.”

“But you would never see me again,” she stared up at him over the rims of her glasses with those huge doe eyes that made him melt.

He stroked her cheeks with just the tips of his fingers, and tried to ignore how much those words hurt him. There was something about the sadness in her voice, “Never say never, you said.”

“No,” she whispered, pressing her hands over his, “I’m staying with you.”

“You’ll be in danger as long as you stay with me.”

“You are so dramatic,” she laughed, nuzzling his cheek, “People are always stronger together than alone. I know you love to play the tragic hero, but I’m not letting you deal with a dying megalomaniac alone. You’re too soft for it.”

“Soft, am I?” he laughed, leaning his forehead to hers, and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, his eyes sliding closed as he relaxed into her embrace, “I suppose I am in a way.”

Neither of them had seen Asra walk into the suite, or noticed as he stood in the bedroom door, watching the pair of them. She looked so happy, even in the dreadful predicament, that Asra couldn’t be selfish anymore. She didn’t belong to him, anymore than she belonged to Julian now. She was young and in love. He silently backed from the room, and went to the door, taking a deep quiet breath as they whispered together. It was a private moment, and he needed to respect that.

He stopped at the door taking another deep breath, and knocked, standing out of their sight, “Julian? Are you in here?”

Julian leapt up from Zenia, his hand lingering on her shoulder for a moment, “Yes, in here.”

Zenia wrapped the robe tighter around her body, and tied it closed looking at the floor as she stood up.

“I heard what happened,” Asra said, walking into the room, and hugging Zenia, “It’s dreadful. If there’s anything I can do to help, you let me know, alright?”

Zenia smiled up at Asra as he pulled away from her, turning to Julian, “What’s the Count’s plan then?”

“I don’t know, honestly he might not even have one. He’s becoming unhinged,” Julian said, waiting for the other shoe to drop in Asra’s demeanor, but it didn’t.

Asra reached his hand out and rested it against Julian’s arm, as if offering the doctor a support, “Well, then it’s a waiting game. We’ll just have to plan for anything, then,” he smiled, “and it will be alright.”

Zenia embraced him tightly, “You are my dearest friend,” she whispered to him.

“I’m sorry for my behavior,” he murmured in response, before letting her go, “I’ll give you both some time. I just wanted to come and offer my aid in whatever capacity it may be needed.”

“Thank you,” Julian smiled at Asra, bursting with appreciation. He stopped himself from reaching out and taking Zenia’s hand. There was no need to gloat.

“Of course,” Asra smiled, on his way out, “I’m going to lunch. I’ll bring something up for you later.”

Zenia glanced up at Julian, “See? Things are looking up already.”

“I honestly was expecting him to curse me,” Julian said, sitting back on the bed.

“Oh hush. He’s not so bad as all that,” she teased him, climbing up on the bed next to him, and kneeling to nuzzle at the side of his neck cuddling against one of the bruises she had left there, “He’s just sensitive.”

Julian’s skin warmed under her attention, reaching out and holding her closer against his chest before lying out on the bed, “I don’t know how any of this should be,” he said quietly, looking at her where she lay, resting her chin on his chest. He caressed her cheek with the tips of those long graceful fingers, “I care about you so deeply.”

Her cheeks bubbled up under his fingers in a grin, “Hah!”

“What?” he asked.

“You like me,” she taunted him.

“Oh be quiet,” he smiled up to the ceiling

“You like me, you want to date me,” she singsonged at him, giggling.

“What are you, five?” he asked, trying not to laugh, wrapping his arms tight around her, “I would have thought it would have been obvious, anyhow. It isn’t as if this is the first time I’ve admitted this.”

“Without being all downcast and talking about how fervent your affections are, but that we can never indulge in that greatest temptation,” she rested her hand dramatically against the her forehead, her eyes rolling back in her head.

Julian rolled his eyes at her, “You are so very amusing.”

She rested her head on the pillow next to him. It was nice just laying next to him, and talking. She leaned forward slowly, watching him as she moved, “I’m glad you find me so.”

His eyes were hooded as he watched her plant kisses along his throat, “You don’t need to be so gentle with me.”

“I know, but…” she looked up at him, blushing.

“Do my predilections make you uncomfortable?”

“Not so much, but I… I may have overstated my experience with that sort of thing?” she admitted.

“Oh?” he asked, grinning up at her.

“Don’t make fun,” she was embarrassed, “I went with a boy once that liked being hit with a belt, but I was awful at it. I’d always start giggling, and turn redder than a beet. I’m not very good at being dominant,” she shifted awkwardly, her embarrassment palpable, as she sat up.

“That isn’t true,” he said, looking her face over again for any sign of teasing, but finding none. He rolled on to his side, resting his head in his hand, “Have you had many lovers?”

“I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you mean,” her hesitation was enough to tell him to wait until she spoke again, "Not as many as you apparently. Was the Count right? Did you... were you fond of prostitutes during the war?"

He winced, "I was hoping you wouldn't catch that, or maybe forget it?"

"So it was true?"

He coughed, clearing his throat, "I was very young, and very inexperienced. I'm not proud of it, but, yes. The Count was telling the truth, but a very misleading truth."

She nodded looking away, "I shouldn't be surprised."

"There was a girl that followed the camps, and I was in love. I thought I could save her, I had promised to marry her, but," he shook his head, "she didn't last the war."

"What was her name?"

"Tarisa," he gave a gallows smile, looking away from her, "It was a jab at me because I couldn't save her. She, uh," he cleared his throat, again, "They had some sort of exploding devices, and she took some shrapnel to the chest when one landed to close to the camps, and I couldn't operate in time. I didn't even..." 

She watched him, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"It was so long ago," he smiled at her, trying to remember where he was, “It's like you say, we all have pasts. I know there are things in my past that aren't indicative of a gentleman of honor, but I am who I am."

"I know you're right. I shouldn't have assumed... I was almost jealous," she admitted, ruefully, "I was worried that I would be a disappointment. I'm never quite as good as I let people think I am, I'm afraid."

"You should never be anything other than what you are. I don't want you to pretend with me, ever. We’ll get to know each other with time,” he took her hand in his, stroking her knuckles with his thumb, “Taking a lover is all learning another person. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“That’s funny coming from you,” she said, moving her fingers with his.

“I know, will you let me live my reluctance down with grace, please?” he looked up at her under his lashes. He was beginning to relax again. It wasn’t fair that he was so pretty.

He reached up and gently touched the side of her spectacles, “May I?”

“Sure,” she leaned back a little as he took her glasses off, and sat up to look at her.

“Are your eyes very bad?” Julian asked, holding her glasses in front of his face a little ways.

“Not to terrible. I’m just nearsighted.”

“So you can see me?” he asked.

“Yes,” she smiled. People always assumed that she couldn’t see anything, as if she would go entirely blind as soon as her glasses were off, and be plunged into an abyss of splotches a messy as a painters background, and that she would be uselessly wandering around bumping into walls.

He reached a single finger out and touched a small thin scar just under her right eye. He had never noticed it before. “How did this happen?”

“I was in a knife fight, and the man in question tried to take my eye,” she said, “He missed fortunately.”

“I dare say,” he smiled, leaning toward her and pressing a kiss against her cheek, “Though you would look rather dashing,” he whispered against her skin.

“Oh yes, of course,” she smiled, moving to rest her head against his shoulder, “I’m so rugged.”

Julian wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against his chest, quieting her jokes, “I will have to go soon,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head, “as much as I wish I didn’t have to.”

“Oh hush, you were so excited about your medical break through,” she tilted her head back to look at him, “Now give me a kiss and get back to your work.”

He smiled, leaning down to kiss her tenderly. The feel of his lips lingered on hers as he put his boots on and prepared to return to work. She pressed her fingers to her lips to savor the time they had spent together.

He paused, looking back to her, a goofy grin spread across his face as he looked at her. He reached out a hand to her, and he could have burst when she leapt up and ran to him, giving him a hug.

“Go save the world,” she smiled, pushing him along to work.


	9. A New Ally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, Ilya!

The Countess glanced about the dinner table, noting the empty seats that were becoming more and more frequent. She wasn’t surprised, as fewer members of the court had been present in the palace since it became more and more apparent that the Count was falling into a state of constant maliciousness. It wasn’t the absences that bothered her, but rather the abject selfishness of the courtiers that would carry the plague back to their provinces without a thought for the damage they would do.

But that was not the end to her annoyances. Julian sat next to her, and empty seat at his side, a glaring reminder that picked at her for a reason she couldn’t quite say.

“Where is your girl?” she asked, leaning toward him.

“Zenia is in our room,” Julian explained. He wasn’t surprised that Nadia knew about the recent change in their situation, but he hadn’t expected her to ask, “She isn’t my girl, Countess. I’m sure she would take offense at such an implication. I can’t imagine I would make a good master even if she were.”

The Countess chose to ignore his self-loathing, “Was anything sent up for her supper?” Nadia glanced between Julian and Asra, as they both faltered.

“I was going to take her something when we were done,” Julian admitted, feeling rather embarrassed, as though it had proven his point. He should have abstained and stayed with Zenia, “There hasn’t been any decision as regards her status here, and we weren’t sure it would be appropriate for her to attend.”

“So she’s just sitting up in your room?” Nadia asked, disgusted. She stood, forcing everyone at the table to rise in respect for her status, and the contained storm of her rage, “I will return presently,” she announced before dropping her voice to speak to Asra and Julian, “Remind me never to leave you in charge of greenhouse. Surely ever plant would die in your charge.” She glided from the room elegantly trailing silk behind her.

0x0x0

Zenia lay on her stomach, sprawled out on a sofa reading. She didn’t look up as the door closed gently, “Dinner over already? That was quicker than usual.”

“Not yet,” Nadia said, down glancing at Zenia. She had something over her arm.

Zenia leapt to her feet, “I’m sorry, milady,” she started to curtsy.

“I have been told that you did not realize that you were invited to dine with the rest of us. I wanted to come and rectify this misunderstanding,” Countess Nadia said with a kind smile.

“Doctor Devorak tried to convince me that it would be alright, but I wasn’t sure it was. I used to be a maid, and now I don’t know what I am.”

“I know what my husband has done, and I want you to know that as he is not down regularly anymore, that would not be a problem. Even that aside, I am mistress here, and I would be quite upset if any guest at my court was locked away in this manner,” Nadia glanced her over, her brow puckering at the sight of her tying Julian’s dressing gown closed over her thin shift, awkwardly trying to move in the giant garment that dwarfed her almost comically as it swallowed her up and dragged on the floor, “Have you not been brought anything to wear?”

“I think his lordship meant to, but had other things to worry about. I have a dress, but he rather eschewed it,” Zenia admitted, smiling, “Though, and I know this may be and improper and impertinent idea, but I’ve always thought that fine ladies might have the pleasure of lounging about as I have. Though I’ve only really seen them in painting and from a distance, or out of the corner of my eye,” She stopped seeing Nadia’s piercing stare, “I’m sorry I’ve run off at the mouth. I’m not a fine lady at all.”

“Is that how you speak all the time?”

“Only when I’m trying to seem better than I am,” Zenia looked to the floorboards. She didn’t look up even as the Countess was crossing the floor to her, “I did warn you that it was an impertinent idea, though.”

The Countess put a finger under Zenia’s chin, raising it, “Do you find me hard to look at?”

“Force of habit, I’m afraid,” that wasn’t just it, though. She was hard to look at. The Countess didn’t seem like a human, but some divine thing set above all humanity. She was too beautiful and graceful, and she was everything Zenia had ever tried to imitate.

“You are not scrubbing my floors anymore, and you will have to make them all see that, I’m afraid. Do not look away from anyone, or they will feel that they have won,” Nadia said with more tenderness than she should have. She was fighting against her own natural impulses, that would cause her to be harsher to this presumptuous girl, but every part of her felt the need to make up for the devices that were unfolding in her house. She wasn’t sure that she like Zenia in the least, and thus far thought her rather pretentious, but Nadia had been raised to be better than that, “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Julian and Asra are friends of mine, and we shall have to be friends as well,” Nadia spread her arms and with it the deep emerald fine silk dress she had brought, “I think this should suit you. It doesn’t fit me, and if it is large, I’ll have someone come and take it in.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll dress presently,” Zenia accepted the dress and went into the bedroom to dress behind a screen. Her face was hot, and she knew that she was talking too much, and putting on airs.

“By the by,” Nadia said, sitting, “Fine ladies are not given the liberty of lounging a day in their lives. From the day we are out of the nursery we are put in our frocks and made to be constantly ready to accept callers and any other visitors, or affairs that may present themselves. Those paintings you see and idolize of women dressed in shift and laying in repose are created of the fantasies of men.”

Zenia felt her face burning with embarrassment. She knew she had spoken wrong. She adjusted the metal belt around her waist. The belt fit, but the rest of the dress hung as awkwardly on her frame as Julian’s robe had done. She reentered the sitting room, smoothing her hands over the soft material, “Do I appear acceptable?”

Nadia looked her over, “Turn.”

The fabric rustled around her as Zenia turned, holding her skirt aside in one hand.

“It will do for now,” Nadia walked toward her, eying the material where it sagged, “Your endowments are charming, though of a different shape than mine. I’ll have my handmaid in tomorrow to look after that.”

“I think that’s the kindest way I’ve ever been told that my chest is all but flat,” Zenia said, trying not to laugh.

Nadia smiled, walking behind her, “You are an elegantly made lady,” she tugged at the back of the dress’s shoulders, watching in the looking glass as the front of the dress shifted to fit her, tucking the excess material under the belt, “In fact I would say you look rather like a doll with those eyes of yours…There,” she smiled encouragingly over Zenia’s shoulder, her reflection showing kindness. She touched Zenia’s hair trying to maintain her features, “There isn’t much that can be done in short time, and I’m afraid I left all the gentlemen at table.”

“I imagine how that must have pleased them.”

“I don’t care if it pleases them,” Nadia said, her chin tilted up as she started past Zenia, “Will you come?”

Zenia picked the lavender ribbon from the bedside table, and wrapped it over her head quickly, tying the bow behind her hair, smoothing her hair as she trailed after the Countess, “Yes, milady, I’m coming.”

The Countess breezed into the dining room with Zenia a step behind her, “Ladies, Gentlemen,” she called in a clear voice as they all rose to their feet, “This is Ms. Zenia Marin, a friend of my court, and a guest of Doctor Devorak,” she led Zenia to the head of the table, “and she will be partaking of our society.”

Julian didn’t smile, but his face lit up, exuding joy as he held a chair out for Zenia. She felt the eyes of every footman on her as she moved. Only that morning she had been their coworker, but now she was going to make them clean up after her. Julian pushed her chair in for her before retaking his own seat. There was a plate over the one in front of her, and she glanced at him. He smiled a little and whispered back, “I made you a plate, and did my best to keep it warm. Though I don’t know what your tastes are, so I picked a bit of everything.”

“Foolish boy,” she whispered back to him, nudging his knee with her own.

She ate everything on her plate with every manner she could, though arriving late, she had not reference for the cutlery. She knew that one moved outside in, minding the order of courses, but had come so late to dine that she had no idea what she was doing. Julian sat next to her, watching, and doing his best to discreetly help her by resting a finger on which ever instrument appropriate, and whispering, “salad”, or “fish,” as quietly as anyone could.

“I’m sorry. If I’d been in service longer I might have learned what a Boulogne spoon looks like.”

“At least you hold them right, that matters more.”

She smiled, knowing that at least ten eyes were watching her for a flaw or mistake. She kept her head metaphorically down, but remembered the countess’s instruction to keep her chin up, and her back straight. It was just as well, as not a soul besides Julian deigned to talk to her.

“Don’t worry, tomorrow you won’t be able to beg them off,” Julian said softly, “All the high-borne must conspire together to find only the most obnoxious questions and schemes to try and catch you out.”

“Oh you say only the most assuring things,” Zenia retorted, “Your bedside manner must be remarkable.”

“Oh yes,” he touched the side of her hand with his own, “Just ask the Count. My manners at his bedside are quite proper in spite of his every hope.”

She dabbed her mouth with the corner of her napkin to restrain her laugh, glancing at the Countess who didn’t notice anything, and had not heard them.

“I like your ribbon,” he went on, “Where ever did you get it.”

“A very dear man gave it me,” she smiled, noticing that the Countess was rising to stand, concluding dinner. Zenia watched as the gentlemen stood and the ladies stayed seated until they too were leaving the room. Julian offered her his hand to hold as she too stood up, “I think that may be the only true benefit society grants our sex.”

“What would that be?”

“That we don’t have to get up and down as often as your lot do.”

“I am realizing now, I know nothing of your political sentiments,” Julian said gently, looking down to her, “Are you one of those radicals, then?”

“Would that be so terrible for you to endure?”

“No, I don’t suppose,” he slowed his step to match hers, “On a completely different note, I must say that it is a wonder you get anywhere, short as your legs are.”

She jabbed her elbow into his side, noting his attempt to change the topic, “Are you political?”

“Not really. I keep to myself for the most part.”

“It must be nice to not have to think about such things,” she teased him.

“Will you go through?” he asked, walking into the grand corridor with her.

“Into the sitting room?” she asked, horrified as she realized for the first time that it was expected of her.

“It is what is done, I’m afraid.”

“N’ah daren’t,” she said, her dockside accent coming in harder than he’d ever heard it before.

He smiled, thinking it was the cutest thing he’d ever heard, “Where’s that fighting spirit that I’ve grown so very fond of.”

“Sleeping, which I feel like I should be doing,” she said, trying to adjust her voice back.

“Alright, I’ll make our excuses and we can get some rest,” Julian smiled.

“Excuses for what?” Nadia asked, suddenly at Zenia’s elbow, “I do hope you aren’t throwing in the white flag already.”

“Not in so many words, milady,” Zenia said, “It’s just been a rather full day.”

Nadia raised a regal brow at her, “That’s a fair enough reason. But I do expect you in tomorrow, and to be down for a glass of wine before. I would like to get you introduced.”

“Yes, Milady.”

The Countess nodded as they gave their bows and curtsies. She studied both of them a moment before saying, “Do come for tea tomorrow.”

“It would be an honor,” Zenia smiled, accepting Julian’s arm as they started away down the long corridor, and up the stairs to Julian’s room; their room. Her pace slowed a little as she thought about that.

“Are you alright?” Julian asked, looking down at her.

“We live together now,” she said.

“Yes,” he nodded, chuckling, “I am very well aware,” he opened the door for her. As soon as it was closed behind her, he sat on the sofa next to her, “Are you nervous?”

“I haven’t ever really lived with a man before,” she admitted, “It’s rather exciting.”

“You have the most delightfully low threshold for adventure,” he smiled, stroking her cheek.

“Suppose I do. Though every adventure I’ve ever had has always ended strangely,” she brightened, “Tell me something about you than no one would ever guess.”

“Oh, um…” he pondered a long moment, chewing his lip, “Well, I can juggle.”

“What?”

“I can juggle, but only three at a time,” Julian admitted.

“Prove it.”

“Alright,” he picked up three pomegranates, and began tossing them in the air, one by one until they arched in perfect spacing a few moments before he tossed them back in the bowl.

Zenia clapped grinning, “Where did you pick up that skill?”

“Nevivion,” he said, “that’s where I was born, and where I grew up. I wanted to join the circus. Also I was an exceptionally awkward adolescent and I thought that juggling was a particularly brilliant and original way to woo my crushes.”

Her mouth pinched shut to stop her from laughing.

“Yes, it went exactly as well as you might think.”

“I have this image in my mind of you at fourteen, being six foot tall and skinny trying chasing everyone and juggling aggressively,” Zenia said trying not to laugh, and failing.

“That is accurate,” he admitted, blushing and smiling, “yeah, I would have been run out of town eventually.”

“If only they’d known what they had in you,” she leaned her head against the back of the sofa against his arm, looking up at him.

“And what is that?” he asked leaning closer to her.

“The best juggling doctor the world has ever seen,” she teased him, her smile shining in the candlelight.

“I am going to regret showing you that,” he laughed, a low sound at the back of his throat, and he hovered over her, “I should have just said that I spoke seven languages.”

“You really should have,” she bit her lip. She felt like an idiot. It wasn’t even funny. She was just delirious from lack of sleep.

“Don’t move,” His hand reached up for her face, his thumb rested on her chin, pulling just so to so her lip came slowly back from between her teeth. It was pink and swollen, and he couldn’t take his eyes away from the flesh that promised warmth. He leaned forward and ran the tip of his tongue over her bottom lip. He glanced her face, taking her in again.

Her fingers had started unbuttoning his waistcoat, and her parted lip, smiling tilted up to just brush against his, teasing him out. Her dark eyelashes almost fluttered.

Her hands left his waistcoat half undone when they reached up and took her spectacles off, and tossed them at the ornately carved and gilded table in front of the sofa, before diving at him, throwing her arms around his neck, and knocking him back over against the sofa’s cushioned surface.

Julian was staring up at her with a receding ravenous glint that he couldn’t quite quench, “I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, teasingly, thinking that this was a game of his.

He smoothed a hand over her cheek, “My feelings remain unchanged, save for the object of your… detention.”

She stiffened a little, “Please explain what you mean.”

“I find that with some thought, that this is wrong,” he looked up at her thinking that she would respond in anyway, but she remained unwavering as she looked at him. It forced him to go on, “I don’t like the idea that you couldn’t give yourself to me of your own volition. He may have had a preexisting hesitance towards his feelings for her, but now he couldn’t touch her without thinking about the fact that she was given to him under immoral pretenses, “I don’t like this idea of you belonging to me, or anyone.”

She was watching him again with that piercing gaze that stabbed into his very heart. He could see the pain in her eyes, his own reflecting back in those dark eyes. Why didn’t she say anything?

“And I think perhaps we have rushed so brashly into something that neither of us actually wanted,” he said trying to press on, and faltering.

She rested her head against his chest, feeling his heart beat against her cheek. It was hammering away in there, and she knew to an extent she was a teasing bitch, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for any of what he entailed, as she had thought. There was nothing that she could say now that she hadn’t already said to him over and over.

His fingers stroked her back, even as she could feel his body reacting to her, “You need to rest,” he whispered, sitting up with her, “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“Nonsense,” she scoffed, “We’ve already slept in the same bed. I trust you,” his hair was back in his eyes, and she reached up to push it back tenderly, stroking his cheek, “And anyway, I’ll need help out of this gown. I only managed to get into the damn thing by luck. I honestly feel like I’m in a shroud there’s so much of it all,” she pushed herself up off of the sofa.

He sat back, watching her move. She carried herself differently when she was dressed like a lady, even as she was trying to best not to trip over the excess of material. He smiled as she looked back over her shoulder at him, an inviting smile on her face, as she jerked her head for him to follow her. He weighed the options presented to him before he pushed himself to his feet and followed her.

The metallic belt was more like a rather large cuff that could be pinched in place around the waist, giving the acres of fabric a more defined shape. She took that off easily enough, smiling at the fact that it wasn’t gold at all, but some painted pliable metal, and she wondered if all nobility was like that; namely a base bronze under a shiny affectation.

Watching her, he knew she had been fibbing. The garment itself was in no way complicated. There were no ties or buckles. It was a finely made, though overly glorified slip, and it nearly fell off of her with only the slightest movement. Knowing Nadia she had picked the garment for its simplicity. His thoughts stopped in their tracks as the garment began to slide slowly from her body.

Julian leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, watching her. He chewed on his lip as the dress pooled at her feet, and as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

“What?” she asked, smiling under hooded eyes at him, “Something the matter?”

“Nothing,” he had more control over his voice than he would have expected. She still hadn’t given any response to his declaration of non-love. She wasn’t wearing a shift under her dress. It was the first time that he was seeing her fully. Her naked flesh called to him, dared him to reach out and embrace her. He wanted nothing more than to press a kiss against that flesh.

“Do you see something that shakes your confidence?” she asked.

He took a deep breath looking just over the shape of her shoulder, “I told you that coyness didn’t suit you,” he was crossing the floor with slow, deliberate steps, looking at her.

“I’m naked,” her voice was brimming over with laughter, “I wouldn’t say that I’m being coy in the least.”

“Don’t move,” he was circling her, his hand reached out to just brush against her skin, almost not. It was the lightest touch, and it sent chills over her entire body. She turned her head to follow him, “I said not to move,” he chided her gently, guiding her face back with his fingers. She could feel heat building up under her cheeks. She’d never really been comfortable with her body. She’d always thought her pear shape was awkward looking, even when she knew it was in her head.

There was a fine cerulean lacework of floral tattoos down one side of her back, stretching out over her ribs. He traced his fingers over her back when he rounded her again. He stopped behind her back where she could almost see him out of the corner of her eye.

He shifted her hair up in a handful, pressing it against the base of her head, watching a few loose curls fall free around her neck.

“What are you doing?” she asked, laughing, even as it was getting harder to breathe.

“Enjoying the view,” he smiled, tracing the shape of her shoulder blade with the tingling touch of a moth’s wing.

Her eyes slid shut as she reveled in his touch. She leaned back against his chest, tilting her face up to look at him. If he had ever thought to take Asra’s advice and have her portrait painted, it wouldn’t be this moment he would want to capture. He would want her in a fine dress with some silk in the back behind her. Her features would be composed in one of those courtly masks that were both distant and beckoning. The way she looked now was something that he wanted to keep only for him, and he wanted no one else to ever see the look she was giving him.

Her face now was beautifully alluring, peering up at him under night black lashes with her dark eyes, and her full lips parted up at him. He would give her anything for that look, and for the hand reaching over her shoulder to stroke his cheek. He pulled her closer, holding her in his arms as he bent to kiss the side of her neck gently, tenderly. He buried his face in her hair, letting her scent envelope him. She turned in his arm, and pulled him down to kiss her, throwing herself into him fully, and grinned against his lips as he accepted her without hesitation.


	10. Confessions

He sat against the headboard, smiling down at her. Zenia grinned up at him from where she rested against his chest, her chin on her crossed arms. His long fingers traced absently over the pattern of flowers on her back, “Why did you get this?”

“It’s by own body, isn’t it?” she asked, smiling, teasing him.

“Of course,” he smiled, “It’s just that you can’t see it yourself, and I wondered if there was a story behind it.”

She hesitated, looking at one of the fresh marks on his chest, “Don’t you have anything in your past you feel like you ought to be punished for?”

“I think I was like this before…” he stopped before he realized that she might not be talking about him. He took a breath, “You keep talking about your past like it’s some vague specter of doom.”

“I suppose I do,” she smirked, “I shouldn’t make it sound so bad as all that.”

He chewed his lip nervously. He had to ask. It had been bothering him for some reason, no not some reason, he knew what it was, “Asra has been equally vague, but then claims that he knows nothing.”

She peered up at him, “I’m sure a man of your intellect and unimpeachable imagination would have no shortage of ideas what demons I’ve buried.”

“Whatever it is, I won’t judge you,” he was trying to be reassuring, but the words felt false coming out. It wasn’t because he didn’t mean them, but he felt like it was paltry and cliché, “I mean I know you’ve had a harder light than most people here could probably imagine.”

She was watching him levelly, “And how to you imagine I pulled myself up?” 

“We’ve all had to do things that perhaps you might not be proud of…”

She moved one of his arms, and used it to prop her chin up, “Yes, and?”

“I know that sometimes, there are limited choices for women in desperate straits-”

She was laughing before he had finished the sentence, “Do you think I was a whore?”

“I am guessing from your reaction that that summation might be incorrect?”

She smiled, leaning up to kiss Julian, “Bless you, my sweet doctor. You are absolutely precious.”

“So what was it?” He didn’t mind her laughing at him; he just wanted to finally quench the curiosity that had been prickling at the back of his neck. He’d been building up his uncertainty, making it into something that felt like when something was watching you over your shoulder and you were too afraid to look back at it.

She was sitting up, her shoulder brushing his as she rested against the headboard, taking a beleaguered breath, “I was hoping that I would be able to put this off a bit longer…” she stared across the room, squinting not just because she couldn’t see the details of her reflection in the mirror at the far end of the sitting room, but because she was trying to find the best way to phrase it, before she decided to speak again.

“Your sins come from trying to save lives, and mine come from taking them.” She could feel him stiffening next to her, as if he was waiting for her to say it was a joke, but she didn’t turn to look at him yet, “I want to make it clear that they were all guilty, I always made sure of it before I took any commission. They were all men that did unspeakable things to people that were unable to do anything about it. They couldn’t go to the officials, or in some cases their own families. Some of the victims were… they were so young.”

“You were a vigilante then?”

“I was a mercenary at a very small scale,” she said, clarifying, peering at him sideways, “So there it is. That’s the great secret that we’ve been keeping from you. Though I didn’t realize that Asra had put it together.”

“I think that he tried to keep an eye one you. I think he wanted to protect you in what small ways he thought he could.”

She didn’t answer.

“How many?” Julian asked.

“Dozens at least… I didn’t kill them all. When I could I roughed them up and made sure they left the city, and that they couldn’t come back.”

“How would you do that?”

“Blackmail mostly, some I paid off,” she pulled her knees up a little to wrap her arms around them. She rested her chin on her knees, “Though if I’m being entirely honest I feel worse about the ones that left the city, because I’m sure they’re off preying on someone else. I was just glad that they were out of my city, as if they weren’t my problem anymore, and I could just pass them off to someone else.” 

“So, is it a form of punishment?” Julian asked, tracing his finger over the tattoo again. If it was a punishment, it was a beautiful one. He looked closer and noticed that the small, detailed flowers had been done in different hands, with just slightly different colors of the bright blue. They matched, and you wouldn’t notice unless you stared hard at them.

“In part, yes. Sometimes when I can’t see over this guilt, I go in to get a little more done,” she admitted, looking at him, “So you think I’m a wretched thing now? Do you see in me some tragically awful creature?”

He looked at her, studying her, “No, I don’t. I just have a hard time imagining it.”

“Do you? Do you really?”

He remembered her on the night of the solstice, knocking the man that was harassing her to the ground, a knife at his throat. But she remembered her words more than anything. “Now, I want you to listen very closely, and think about this moment every time you bother a woman that is clearly uninterested.” “Now, it is inadvisable to ever offer a woman money, no matter how inebriated you are.” “And also please do not ever grab another woman after her rebuff.” They were all things that he could imagine her saying because she knew what those tiny moments could amount to.

“Sometimes we have to take things in to our own hands,” he said, “Sometimes people are pushed so far, and sometimes people need help where ever they can get it.”

Her eyes were misty, he noticed. He was taking in every change in her face, the tightening in her jaw, and the tremor that was starting in her. He had few immediate weaknesses as watching people he cared about cry. He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her head against his chest, “I told you nothing I could know about your past would change how I feel. We all have pasts, my love.”

She was softening, relaxing a little in his embrace before looking up at him, “What did you say?”

“That my feeling remain unchanged, and I understand the need for-“

“No, not that… I’m sorry I know this might be silly, and a very dumb thing for me to be fixing on, but did you just call me ‘love’?”

He blushed, “I think that might have been… a slip of some sort… I mean, I think it’s probably too soon for me to.”

“Uh oh, have you fallen madly love with me?” she teased.

He rubbed his thumb over her cheek drying her face. She had expected him to smile at her, but he looked so utterly serious, “Hush. Don’t tease me,” he whispered close to her, he rubbed his nose with him, “I might be a little enamored with you. I may be completely enamored, actually. It’s as if you have possessed me. You could take my very heart from my breast and put it in your pocket, and it could not be more yours than it already is.”

“You are so ridiculously and adorably droll,” she smiled up at him, her face reddening, “People don’t really talk like that you know? Not in real life.”

“Then I suppose we exist in some other place outside of reality,” he was looking into her eyes, close enough that she could see him clearly. She could feel the short, fine, velvety, invisible hairs on the tip of his nose against hers like a static shock.

“So I guess you won’t be able to tell me that you want some space to think anymore.”

“No, I dare say I won’t,” he smiled.

She leaned up and kissed him, “I promise I’ll be good.”

His laugh brightened up the heavy knot that had filled her stomach, his hand stroked her hair, “Be what you are without stipulation. I’m not perfect by any stretch. I may have over simplified some things in my own past.”

“Tarisa?” Zenia asked, guessing. That story had seemed to vaguely revised. 

He hesitated, and she could almost hear him swallow.

“Were you a gallivanting whoring youth?” she asked, peering up at him, “Hm?” 

“That would be the gist of it,” he admitted, turning as crimson as her uniform had been, and as she had been until her could relax back into teasing, and levity. 

“And my feelings remain unchanged,” she smiled, “as long as you can promise that you will be faithful to me.”

“Of course I will,” he smiled, holding her face in his hands, before leaping out of bed and kneeling at the edge of the bed, smiling, and reaching for her hands, pulling her closer to him, “I swear to you, Ms. Marin, that I give myself entirely into your hands.”

She smiled, trying to pull back, “You’re being silly.”

“I’m being honest,” he grasped her hands, kissing them, “I am yours and yours alone, to have or disregard, however it may please you to use me.”

The terms by which they had come together still didn’t sit well with him, but she had been right when she had chided him for his reluctance. They had the lives they had, and that was all there was. He would do everything in his power to protect her, and cherish her. He could undo all of his mistakes, every time he’d said something that he hadn’t meant and seen his own pain reflected in her face. He could give her a good life.

“You’re talking a bunch of nonsense, ya silly git! Now get back in bed.”

“I love the way you talk to me,” he climbed back up into bed and cradled her in his arms, pinning her in the mess of bedding and pressed kisses all over her face and neck, “I love the way you sound when you aren’t trying to sound like a librarian.”

“As I remember, the first time we met, you said I looked like a librarian, though I’m still not sure what that means.”

“I meant that you looked smart and like you would smack my knuckles with a ruler for being too loud in the sanctuary of learning,” he rested his chin against her chest.

“I bet you’d love that,” she teased, pushing his hair back, her fingers raking through the thick auburn tresses, “Is that what your dreams about me were like?”

“Maybe, little,” he blushed.

“But more lascivious?” 

“Maybe, a bit,” Julian laughed, “Well, it wasn’t my knuckles. Can I ask you to do something?”

“Depends on what it is,” the words dragged out of her, “I’m still trying to figure out how to give you the things I know you want.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t your first time you’d been with someone with my… what did you call it? My inclination?”

“It’s not, though I was trying to sound sophisticated and cosmopolitan, and sure of myself,” she was giggling again

“Is that what the cosmopolitan ladies are doing now? How reassuring.”

She pulled on his ear, “How would I know?”

“Well, worry not, dear Zenia, I wasn’t going to ask you to truss me up,” He grinned at her, “Will you please help me make the bed back into something decent, and go to sleep with me?”

She rolled her eyes groaning, “Well I guess. If it’s what you really need, Julian.”

“It’s exactly what I need,” he leapt up out of bed, and started pulling back the covers not waiting for her to get up. She rolled quickly, scrambling out of the way of his bed based destruction, and got down to help him.

“I’d like if you would call me me Ilya, at least when we’re alone,” he said after thinking, helping her straighten out the bedding, “It’s my given name.”

“Why do people call you Julian, then?” she asked.

He started to tease her, but stopped, “Julian is the closest name that’s used here. It’s the Vesuvian version. It’s like how Grigory would be called Gregor if he had been born in Nevivion. My name is foreign to people’s tongues here, and they can be rather…”

“I understand,” she smiled at him over the coverlet.

“Also no doctor wants people to hear ‘ill’ when they see them, even if there is another syllable after it,” he said, quickly throwing the joke in at the end. It was one of his favorites, though more often than not no one else seemed to find it as amusing as he did.

She crawled over the coverlet toward him, “How witty you are.”

“Oh yes,” he smiled, pulling back the covers, and leaning forward to kiss her, “Now come to bed.”

When finally they fell asleep, it was in a cocoon of down and damask, wrapped up in each other, a grasping, and hopeful hold on their future.

0x0x0

Zenia wasn’t sure what tea with the Countess would be like, and she had tried to conceive of every possible scenario. She had run through those conversations in her mind, trying to prepare her smile, her posture and her wit.

She probably should have guessed that she would be standing on a stool as Nadia’s handmaid pinned in her dress and took the hem up.

Nadia sat on the sofa, sipping her tea, and watching, “I hope you don’t think I’m presumptuous, but I’ve laid out a few other dresses for you as well.”

“I’m honored, ma’am,” Zenia smiled.

She was a cute thing, and she had managed her hair nicely. Nadia didn’t think the short cut suited her, but she had pinned it up in the back quite nicely. 

“I must say I was rather disappointed that you did not come to the salon last night.”

“I know, but I’m honestly rather nervous about it. I don’t think I know how to mingle with such highborn people as your court. My small talk leaves something to be desired.”

“Yes well, we’ll have to work on that,” The Countess rose to hand her a teacup, “At least you can speak as though you’ve ever read a book.”

“Thank you?” Zenia asked, not bothering to keep her voice level, “I’m certain that was meant as a compliment, though I do have to ask what you mean by ‘at least.”

The Countess’ face was the picture of surprise at the direct question, “I told you, you will have to prove yourself to the courtiers, and while I can see that you are trying very hard, and you’ve clearly practiced, there is still something in your manners that isn’t quite of our world,” she paused, walking in a circle around Zenia. She reached out and gently adjusted her shoulders, moving them back and down just a little, and placed her hands on Zenia’s hips, shifting them forward just a bit, then readjusting her shoulders back. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you of course,” the Countess went on, “but they will be all over you, looking for any flaw to exploit so that they can continue to feel superior. You won’t be able to show any weakness,” the Countess studied her face, “I know it might have seemed a crass way to put it, but you speak as though you are educated, though from what I’ve been able to find about you, any education you had was self instructed, and in some ways it shows.”

“You’ve looked into me then?” she asked, not in the least surprised, “And do you find me wanting?”

“No, I think I should be rather impressed by you, as it turns out.”

“Why?” Zenia kept control of her emotions, but she was worried suddenly that she might have been found out. She had told Julian with the certainty of someone that had been careful not to leave any evidence of her past behind.

“You pulled yourself up from dockside, and trained and worked hard and started a career. You work in the palace, and that is no mean feat,” there was something odd about the look the Countess gave Zenia, “and from what I can tell you’ve hooked a very eligible bachelor.”

“He hooked me first, ma’am,” she smiled, trying not to smirk and failing.

The Countess smiled, “You’ll have to tolerate quite a bit of gossip about your change in circumstance, unless you can find a way around that. Have you any ideas?”

“I’m not ashamed of things that are beyond my own control,” Zenia replied, “I should send your husband a fruit basket for helping bring Doctor Devorak and myself together. It was rather kind and insightful of him to notice that we were going around in circles.”

“You may do well here after all,” the Countess smiled, taking the cup from Zenia’s hand to refill it, “You’ll want to take that off so that Emilie can get it stitched up and ready for tonight.”

Zenia wasn’t sure how to move in the field of land mines that was her dress now. Emilie had managed to stitch part of the dress, but the rest was pinned in place, with what had to be a hundred tiny needles.

The handmaiden Emilie was a quiet girl with pale eyes and hair, and when she moved, there was only the sound of rustling silk. Zenia had always prided herself on her silence, but my god, this girl was amazing. If Zenia gave her a knife she could have the whole world behave. She shook her head to clear it as Emilie stood up and started pulling the hem up carefully.

“Thank you, miss,” Zenia smiled as Emilie took her dress to be restitched.

“Of course,” Emilie’s voice was lovely, as she was, but there was a hard edge in it when she spoke to Zenia. She helped Zenia slowly out of the dress with only mild stabbing. Emilie could have been a lady if she didn’t keep her eyes down. There was something stroking in her, and not for the first time, Zenia felt her own inadequacy reflected, “Would you like me to pin the others, my lady? I can get them done in my free time?”

“Yes, I think that would be perfect,” the Countess smiled, before turning her attention back to Zenia, “Don’t get terribly excited, they’re old cast offs. We’ll have newer things made for you in time, but for now we’ll have to make due.”

“Make due?” Zenia asked, grinning, “I’ve never even had anything so lovely in my life. I don’t think I’d worry if they made me look like a monk!”

The Countess smiled, picking up another dress and helped Zenia into it. It was a bright royal blue, with navy beading that glinted when she moved. The Countess stoked her fingers over the ribbon tied around Zenia’s wrist, “I’m afraid it doesn’t match,” she was joking, but she saw the hesitation in Zenia’s face. “It’s significant then? Do you bear a gentleman’s favor? I thought only knight’s did that sort of thing.”

“I am going into battle, aren’t I?” Zenia smiled, raising her arm as Emilie deftly pricked her without looking up. Zenia tried not to flinch. There wasn’t anything to be done for it, but she didn’t want to get Emilie in trouble. It wasn’t the first time she’s pricked Zenia, but she tried to ignore it.

“Are you alright, Zenia?” the Countess asked.

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“You keep giving this little shudder, I was curious that something might be on your mind.”

“Can you blame me if I did?”

“When I first came here, I had a difficult time adjusting my expectations, and letting go of the things that I was used to,” the Countess said, “But we can get you adjusted together.”

“Are we to be friends then?” Zenia asked.

The Countess’s face looked almost shocked, “I had assumed that was apparent.”

Zenia grinned, “How wonderful!”

“Are you always so cheerful?”

“I try to be, though I find I fail almost as often as I succeed.”

“Fall seven times, and get up eight,” Nadia said, “That’s not a bad philosophy to live by.”

“Well if you stay on the ground, someone might trip over you, and then where are you?”

The Countess laughed, “Well maybe then you have a friend. I see why he likes you. You have a similar sense of humor.”

“I take that as a compliment,” Zenia said as Emilie finished her hem. 

“I have your measurements, miss, so I should be able to manage from there,” Emilie smiled, tense, up at her before helping her out of the dress, “I’ll have the blue one done in a moment, if you’ll wait, miss.”

“Thank you, Emilie,” Zenia smiled as the handmaid turned on her heel and went to pick up the dresses and work in one of the attached rooms in the suite, the door closing behind her.

“Good luck with that one, she’s a harder nut to crack than the Consul,” the Countess smiled, settling down and pouring out more tea.

“She’s very…” Zenia was looking for the right word when the Countess interrupted her.

“Rude?”

“I was going to say beautiful,” Zenia giggled. There was something ethereal about her.

“She’s so very good at her work, but she can be such an awful snob,” the Countess was watching her, “And on occasion, I suspect her little needles might just be weapons of torture.”

“No, she never has… has she stabbed at you, too?” Zenia asked, her face lighting up, “My god, I was starting to think I was a pin cushion. Though I can’t say I blame her. At least I know I’m not dreaming, so there’s that at least.”

“How do you mean?” the Countess asked, her face warming over with a smile.

“Well it’s like something out of a fairy story, ma’am.”

“Ah yes, of course. I can see why you might think that. A maid brought into the fold of the Court, and into the arms of a dashing and yet mysterious stranger.”

“Oh, that sounds so dumb,” Zenia laughed, trying to stifle her laughter in the rich jasmine tea in her dainty cup. The Countess’ tea set was elegant, detailed with such fine lines. She held it daintily as Nadia did, worried her clumsy hands would break the fine ceramic.

“Oh, and if we are to be friends, I would like you to call me Nadia,” the Countess smiled, “It would put on a more even footing. I do hold a deep disdain for relationships built on inequity.”

Zenia smiled, “Thank you, Nadia, for everything.”


	11. Fine Things Ruined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to solona and all of the guests that left kudos!  
> Also a big shout out to puttheminthebasket over on tumblr for her post explaining all of the courtiers titles.  
> Enjoy!  
> xoxo

Zenia peered at her reflection in the mirror standing too close to the glass as she tried to line her upper lid with the kohl and the tiny brush that Countess had given her. Nadia had insisted that Zenia’s best features were her eyes. Nadia had seemed to be fond of Zenia’s figure too, but the dresses still came with corsets.

The door opened to the suite, and Julian’s voice rang out, “I’ve come to change for dinner!” He caught sight of her, and almost burst out laughing.

“Don’t,” she said, pointing a finger at him in warning, without turning her head from the mirror, “I haven’t done this in years, and I’m sure I look insane.”

He tilted her chin up gently to look at her, “Close your eyes,” he waited until she did, then carefully brushed a fingertip over her eyelids and under her eyes before dusting her cheeks with his finger tips, “And you’re perfect.”

“Nadia gave me this to use, though I don’t think it matters much with my spectacles.”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” he looked at her reflection as she turned her attention back to the mirror, “It draws attention to them.”

“She gave me some perfume, too,” she said, fidgeting with the crystal bottle. It was completely unused. Nor did it smell like jasmine, which was the Countess’s signature, “I have a feeling she sent her handmaiden to get it for me,” she held the open bottle out for his inspection.

He gave it a waft, “It smells like these tiny blue flowers I remember seeing in the north. They only give off scent during the night, though. I can’t remember what they were called.”

“It’s pretty,” she smiled, using the stopper to apply it to her pulse points.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” he was stroking the back of her neck. He loved the small curly locks of stray hair that escaped her pins. She was perfection in her all of her imperfections. He slid the chain around her neck, clasping it at the nape of her neck.

“Are these diamonds?” Zenia asked, staring at him in the mirror, her hand trembling over the three stones in their setting where they sat against her clavicle.

“No,” he admitted, “I can’t afford that by any means. They’re moissanite, which is similar in appearance, but a fraction of the price,” he rested his chin on her shoulder, “I wanted to give you something.”

“It’s absolutely gorgeous,” she grinned up at him, grasping the front of his waistcoat and pulling him down to kiss her.

“I’ll buy you diamonds someday, I promise,” he said resting his forehead on hers, “If I’m on the right track, I’ll win favor with the Count, and I’ll be able to buy you everything you want.”

“I don’t need diamonds, Ilya,” she smiled, “But thank you.” She didn’t want to discourage him. She had to stop herself from telling him not to put the cart before the horse, but he was so hopeful that it infected her too. He was making progress after all.

He swept her up in his arms, spinning around the room with her up in his arms, “I’m going to give you a good life.” He held her up against his chest, “I’m going to do right by you, and I’m going to take care of you.”

“Of course you are,” she stroked his cheek and kissed him again, trying to think of anyone that had ever succeeded with such hubris.

0x0x0

Emilie finished the Countess’s hair with a final ornate hairpin, “Finished, my lady.”

“Thank you, Emilie,” Nadia turned her head, inspecting the work, before gently placing a hand at the back of her head, testing the volume and stability of Emilie’s work, “quite a marvel you were able to achieve with Ms. Marin’s dress.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Emilie smiled, though the spite didn’t escape Nadia’s notice.

“Perhaps it is nothing, and perhaps it escapes your notice, but none of those dresses were meant to be worn with the level of confinement common to servants costume, or our grandmother’s age,” Nadia watched the woman’s face, and noticed no change in the polite face.

“She would be used to them, my lady,” Emilie explained, “and Ms. Marin has been wearing one as part of her uniform.”

“So you stitched the dresses to small in the waist and ribs on purpose, so that she might be confortable in one of those caged contraptions.”

Emilie hesitated, “yes, my lady.”

Nadia rose gracefully, turning to Emilie with a face of barely controlled rage, “I do not care for your manners just now. I would advise you to be very careful in the way you will precede. Ms. Marin is a friend of this court, and I will not have such hatefulness under my roof. Is that understood?”

“My lady, will all respect, I do not think it proper that I should be expected to-“

“Do your job? To fulfill your office here?” Nadia asked, “If you find your existence here so terrible, I can have you quite easily replaced. Is that what you want?”

“No, my lady.”

“I thought not. Now if you will have the other dresses done in the right size, I would be rather grateful. Shall I tell Ms. Marin that she may expect them tomorrow by noon? That should be enough time to manage such a job for someone of your skills.”

“Yes, my lady,” Emilie curtsied and took her leave of the Countess, a rage burning in her heart. She needed her place here, or she would have left already. Things had been hard since her husband had been killed. And now she was forced to stitch until she couldn’t feel her fingers and she was blind for that murderous hoodlum. She waited until she was certain that her ladyship was gone, before pressing one of the palace’s silk pillows and screaming into it.

0x0x0

Zenia decided that it was her best to make her way through the decathlon that was supper with no major embarrassment. Though she did pick up the wrong spoon twice, and Praetor Vlastomil was sitting next to her, which made her anxious for some reason. There was something wrong with his hands, or rather his fingers, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

Julian kept his leg against hers, gently as she made polite conversation, talking about the weather, but otherwise, listening and smiling gently as if with the bland almost interest expected of a lady when fiscal policies were being discussed. Julian thought, and hoped he would be the only one that noticed the way she looked down at her plate every now and then as if minding her food, but for the quirk in her brow.

“Do you disapprove of the proposed tariff reforms?” Julian asked in a low voice.

“It may initially help the local economy, but I dare say those that may need to see a boost won’t,” she whispered back, a smile pasted in place, “Little enough of the money that comes in as is helps at all.”

“Well don’t tell them so,” Julian leaned to whisper at her ear, his breath shifting her hair a little at the side of her neck.

She cut her eyes sideways at him, “I know.”

His knee bumped against hers, “Are you ready for after supper?”

“Likely not, but that won’t matter much. Whether I’m ready or not I’ll have to get through it.”

“I’d tell you to keep your head down, but it won’t help much, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sure you’re making it sound worse than it is,” she said hopefully.

He shot her a quick look that churned the lobster bisque in her stomach, “They’ll have tried to look into you as best they could with such short notice, so be careful. Consul Valerius is the best with words so don’t let him twist yours. Pontifex Vulgora will try to convert you, so try not to scoff, and look pious if you can manage it. Quaestor Valdemar will try to convince you that I’m a charlatan, and try to squeeze any information he can out of you, but he lacks any sort of tact. Procurator Volta is in charge of finances, so avoid him as best you can.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a radical and he will be deeply offended,” he smiled.

She jabbed him with her elbow, as she lifted her wineglass for a drink, forcing him to hide his mouth in his napkin to stop himself from choking as he started laughing. Zenia looked at the wall discreetly as if she didn’t know what on earth might be happening to the doctor.

Nadia glanced between the pair with a contained smile. They were good for each other. They both looked happy in a way that only young people in love might look happy, though neither of them was very young when she thought about it. They were her own age, or close to it.

Nadia noticed Vlademar start to open his mouth, hawk like eyes trained on Julian. She turned to speak to him, to distract him from whatever he was going to say, “How have you been feeling. I know you have been suffering from migraines of late.”

“Her ladyship is kind to ask. They come and go, but one must stay on top of one’s health.”

“I must agree,” she smiled politely, standing up to conclude dinner before he fell into some long winded tangent about some dull medical procedure to guard against headache, “Shall we go through, and let the servants get in here to clean up.”

The gentlemen rose, and Zenia accepted Julian’s hand up, then accepting his arm, draping her hand on his forearm just so.

“Gird your loins,” he teased quietly, stooping close to her ear.

She made a face up at him.

“Careful or your face will stick like that.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Oh, yes I’ve done quite a bit of research into it. Hundreds of children across the world are stricken with crossed eyes, and some can’t ever get their tongues back in their mouths,” he smirked.

“Oh dear me, something must be done. How on earth will we manage if all of our children have silly faces forever?”

“If all of our children have silly faces, then we’ll just have to laugh.”

“Good, I like when you laugh,” she said, as they went into the Countess’ sitting room. She glanced around as if she’d never been in the room in her life. She wondered if they knew she had used to clean it. She wondered who did that now. She hadn’t been able to catch Selena at all, and she wondered if she was avoiding her.

Zenia’s hand tightened a little on Julian’s forearm. She didn’t know where one was supposed to go, or what she was supposed to do, but it seemed that there was just more wine, and more lengthy conversations, and the men congratulating themselves on their higher learning.

It seemed almost as if they had all turned at once and stared her down Her stomach knotted immediately, “Oh, goodness.”

Julian’s hand rested on top of hers gently, anchoring her. It was the silent assurance that she hadn’t realized she was going to need until she was standing there feeling like a rabbit in a snare. She’d never been an outright shy person, but she suddenly wished that she could sink into the carpet so they could just tread all over her and get it done with.

She walked forward slowly, trying not to drag her feet.

“I feel that my manners must have greatly lapsed,” Julian said smiling at the courtiers, “I realized during dinner that I never made proper introductions. The last few days have been such a whirlwind, I’m afraid if my head wasn’t on my shoulders I would have forgotten it. May I present Ms. Zenia Marin?”

They all came down on her at once, and she didn’t even know where she was supposed to look. They all five glanced at each other and laughing at her confusion as if it were the funniest thing they’d ever witnessed.

Zenia hadn’t realized she could do this until that moment. She was laughing with them, “My goodness, one at a time, or should I hand out numbers like a meat market on Sunday?”

“Is that a thing done in meat markets?” asked Vlastomil, his eyes gleaming like a schoolgirl.

“The ones with proper buildings, yes.”

“Why?”

“Sunday meals are a grand occasion for most families, and it gets so crowded it’s the only way they can keep order,” she said smiling

Julian left her side slowly to get her a glass of wine, but kept his ear open. She was doing all right so far, and she just needed to get her footing.

“Where are you from, Ms. Marin? What part of the city?” Consul Valerius asked.

“Dockside,” she smiled.

“Were your parents fishers then?”

“Oh, no, but one of my first jobs was mending nets,” she smiled, “Eventually I worked my way up the ladder.”

“And what position did you find yourself in?”

“Making the nets,” she smiled, “A fascinating job to be sure.”

“How delightfully droll you are,” Valerius smirked at her as Julian passed her a glass of red wine. He slipped into the Nevivian language, “Your whore seems as amusing as she is cute, Doctor.”

Zenia glanced at Julian as he retorted in the dialect, “I would prefer if you did not speak about her like that.”

“No, the Consul’s phrasing is no matter to me. I’m sure he meant it as a compliment,” Zenia startled both of them by joining in Nevivian, “It’s not often I’m complimented on my looks,” she took another sip of wine and tried not to look too smug when her eyes turned back up to Valerius’.

The Consul’s jaw was so tight it was a wonder his teeth didn’t shatter.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” she smiled at Julian, “I’m certain I’m positively butchering the language.”

“Your accent needs some work,” Julian allowed.

“I’ll have to work on that.”

“You know, I think I just realized what it is about you…” Valerius’ chin raised a fraction, “I’ve been trying to put my finger on it, but you remind me quite a bit of a small cat.”

“Really?” Zenia asked, tilting her head a little.

“Yes, you’re like a little house cat. I think I’ll call you Kitty,” there was something victorious in Valerius’ eyes that confused Julian. It was like a five year old telling another child that the latter had cooties.

“I’d rather you call me by my name. If we are going to be friends, you should call me Zenia,” she responded. There was something dangerous in her expression. _That clever son of a bitch,_ Zenia thought.

Julian was being summoned before he could ask what on earth was going on. Nadia was always so wonderfully discreet, but he bowed his head a moment, “Pardon me,” he touched Zenia’s back gently to tell her to stay. He crossed the room to where Nadia was sitting and did his best to keep his back straight.

“How is she doing?” Nadia asked.

“She’s holding her own, far as I can tell,” Julian tried not to turn his head. She was an adult and he shouldn’t be constantly watching her, even if vultures surrounded her, “though if I’m honest I have no idea what’s going on now.”

“Do you ever?” Nadia asked, raising her brow at him.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, starting to turn his head.

“You have to let her handle them,” Nadia said, “If she can’t do it alone it will only make it harder for her.”

“I’m honestly more worried she’ll kick someone than anything else.”

“Is that likely to happen?”

“Honestly?” Julian glanced at Nadia significantly.

“I would honestly pay good money for a seat at that show.”

“I’m certain you would have the best balcony seat.”

“Of course,” she tilted her chin up.

There was a collective gasp then silence. Julian and Nadia’s eyes locked on each others as if terrified to look, but unable not to as their heads snapped to look. There was a large dark, almost black stain seeping into the front of Zenia’s dress. Her hands were frozen out from her like a statue of some long dead martyr, her eyes wide in shock as the wine began to touch her skin.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Valerius said, convincingly.

Zenia took a deep breath and smiled, “It’s alright. Accidents will happen. I’m going to retire and soak it.”

“You must let me replace it, if it can’t be saved.”

“Don’t trouble yourself. Worst case I can always have it died to match,” she was smiling so charmingly over her shoulder. She handed off her glass of wine to Julian as she was passing him, “Be a dear and finish this for me?”

“Of course,” Julian smiled trying to be reassuring.

“I hope you will forgive me, my lady,” Zenia smiled.

“Of course,” Nadia held her hand out to Zenia who accepted it quickly before turning. Her posture was exactly as Nadia had positioned it earlier, but her face, turned away from the Courtiers was the picture of murderous rage.

Nadia glanced at Julian, “Well at least she didn’t kick him?”

Julian looked at the Countess all but rolling his eyes at her. He looked over her shoulder, chewing his lip as he could just make out the sound of Valerius’ laugh. Nadia started at him with narrowed eyes. She rose and crossed the room where the Consul was reaching to refill his glass from the decanter. She placed her hand over the top of the decanter, pushing it back down to the wooden lid of the table against the far wall.

“I think you may have had quite enough, Consul,” she smiled.

0x0x0

Zenia was pacing the room in her shift when Julian came in. The look on her face was a mixture of that rage he had seen when she had left, but there was this sadness in her eyes that wrenched at his insides.

“I’m so sorry,” Julian said, leaning back against the door, careful of the wine decanter he’d brought up.

“I thought I was doing well up until that last bit,” Zenia was forcing herself to smile, even as her voice was cracking. Her eyes felt like she hadn’t closed them for weeks, even as her vision was starting to blur with tears, “I was doing well, right?”

“You did wonderfully through the whole evening,” he was in front of her before he knew it, holding her in his arms, the wine decanter was set down on the small table in front of the sofa, “You have more grace in a finger than the lot of them.”

“I don’t even know why I’m so upset,” she was letting out this ragged laugh that made him squeeze her closer against him. She took a deep breath, “I don’t even like any of them. I don’t care what any of them think.”

He held her until she calmed down, and her breathing slowed back down to normal, and he waited until she pulled back before he started, “I have to ask-“

“What was up with him calling me Kitty?”

“I wouldn’t have thought anything if I hadn’t seen you react.”

She shrugged, “My mother used to call me that when I was little. I was a premature birth, and she thought I looked like a newborn kitten. She thought it was funny.”

“How did your parents die?” he asked, sitting her down and pouring her a class of wine.

“My father taught at the university. He was a philosopher obsessed with the idea of egalitarianism, the idea that all people should be equal. He taught that those in a position to help those that needed it had a moral obligation to do so. This was under the rule of the last Count, of course. When I was maybe six, there was a protest during the famine times. My parents went out in support of the masses, and I never saw them alive again,” she told the whole story looking at the wine in her glass before taking a long drink.

“So rebellion runs in the family, then?” Julian asked, stroking her cheek.

“If my father could see me now I think he’d have a fit,” Zenia admitted, “But who knows. Comfort is one of those things that you can scoff at until you have it,” she pulled her feet up under her. The fingers of her free hand raked back through her hair.

“I should have stayed with you,” Julian said.

“No, they’d never respect me if I’m just your lapdog.”

“Valerius is an ass. He hates everyone that can’t elevate him, or be of use in some way.”

“I know…” she admitted, not saying the rest of whatever was weighing on her mind.

“If you want I’ll call him out,” Julian said with a dramatic teasing in his voice.

“What?” she asked, startled out of her thoughts.

“I shall send him a challenge, and I will meet him on the heath at dawn.”

“You’re going to duel him?” she asked, the smile creeping across her face.

“Oh yes. I shall stab the shit out of him.”

“Isn’t Valerius one of the best swordsmen in the state?” Zenia asked, trying not to laugh.

“Of course he is. I’m sure he went to one of those fancy boys schools where they teach that sort of thing.”

“And you are at best passable at fencing?”

“Oh I am very passable, and I will poke him as many times as it takes to restore your honor.”

“How does that idea work with your oath as a doctor?”

“I shall bring all the gauze that I can fit in my coat pocket and after I have given him so many irritating pokes, I will then tend to his mild skin irritation with all the training I have.”

“Ah, yes. Mercy is of course such a large part of your way of life.”

“But I won’t give him an salve at all, so he will be very itchy!” Julian said. He was quite proud of this imagined plan.

“Oh, not itchy!” she was laughing now, “He’ll never be able to scratch if he’s wrapped up in bandages.”

“And as such, my own honor will be satisfied!” he tilted his chin up victoriously.

She set aside her glass, “You are an absolute genius!” she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Thank you, Ms. Marin, I do try.”


	12. Autopsies and Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be a shorter chapter.  
> I've also started a separate story for my overactive imagination and it's smut. If you're over 18 feel free to check that out as well.  
> xoxo

Zenia slept next to her lover as the first light of dawn crept over her face. Julian watched her sleep, and felt a deep contentment that he hoped would never end. She was so beautifully calm in her dreams all of the unpleasantness of the evening gone from her countenance. She was sleeping on her side, her face turned to him and her small hands in languid half fists by her cheek.

His finger hovered over her skin, wondering at the infinitesimal space between them and the charge he felt in his own fingers at the proximity. Her snoring breath even was a marvel to him, though the logical part of his brain told him that he was being stupid, but he couldn’t stop himself. He propped his head up on his hand, hovering over her, watching her in a way that should have embarrassed him.

Her eyes slid open partly, slowly they registered him and she smiled, stretching out, “How long have you been awake?” Her yawning voice reminded him of an elephant.

“A little while now,” he admitted.

“And you’ve been just watching me?” she asked, laughing a little, “You creep.”

“That I am if you say so,” he smiled down at her.

She pushed herself up, squinting at the window, “The sun isn’t even up yet, but you are?”

“I told you quite a while ago that I never sleep well.”

“I didn’t hear you cry out,” she usually did. He had nightmares and would wake her as he tried to escape whatever nocturnal terrors plagued him.

“I don’t think I did,” he admitted, leaning over her to kiss her.

“I feel like I discovered something in my dream that should have helped you, but I swear I can’t remember it now.”

“If it was only a dream, I don’t see how it could have helped much.”

She pursed her lips at him, annoyed, “Don’t be so callous. You know sometimes I have visions.”

“But when you are in a dream, how do you know the difference?” he asked.

“You just can. I don’t know how else to explain it,” she stood up from the bed, stretching her arms up over her head. “And I know you won’t be able to believe anything that can’t be explained to you in great detail.”

There wasn’t a drop of cruelty in her voice. It was a fact. He was a man of learning and science. He distrusted magic all together, but here he was. He couldn’t stop himself from wanting her to make him understand what it was to be in her mind. He wanted that more than anything in that moment, as if his ignorance was a great chasm between them that he couldn’t fill with all the peer-reviewed studies in the world.

“I know, and I shouldn’t trouble you, my love,” he rolled on to her stomach, watching her wash her face in the basin at the window, one of his giant dressing gowns swallowing her tiny body.

“I wish I could explain it to you, I really do,” she squinted against the water dripping down her face before she could dry it with a linen towel, “But it’s a feeling. Not something that can be quantified with numbers or data.”

“I can quantify all of my feelings,” Julian said smugness on his gorgeously arrogant face.

“How wonderful for you,” she teased, setting aside the linen, “Do you keep a little booklet with them all? ‘Today I was exactly 17 percent annoyed with my mistress, but over 73 percent quite enchanted by her company. The other ten percent of my emotional balance is occupied with cures and wit. Over all a good day.’”

“Do you think I am so little in your own enchantments?”

“You must have space for other things, otherwise people will burn me as a demon for having so possessed a decent man.”

“Am I decent?”

“For company?” she smacked his rear, “No, but for me, you are quite decent.”

He grasped her quickly in his arms, pulling her close against him, rolling to pin her against the downy mattress. He pressed his lips to hers, savoring their laughter before all else.

“Let me go,” she laughed, gasping.

His hands held her wrists flat against the bed, “No.”

“Sir!” she gasped as his mouth finding her throat.

“Hush, minx,” he groaned against her throat.

She bit her lip to stop herself giggling. Where was this coming from? He’d always been so submissive to her, bending to her will like so many leaves of grass. His hands grasping her wrists against the silk coverlet made her pulse speed. He loomed over her like a large cat toying with its prey before going for the kill. Zenia bit her lip looking up at him in the close space between them.

Julian smirked and stood up, peering down at his lover, as he started dressing, “I am running late.”

She grabbed a pillow and threw it at his head, “You tease.”

He laughed catching the pillow, and gave her a quick kiss.

“It’s too early for you to go to work yet,” she grasped at the front of his trousers, pulling him back to bed. 

“No, I have an early appointment,” Julian smiled. He should tell her, but there was something that told him she wouldn’t like it.

“Shut up, and come here, you fool.”

0x0x0

The lunch hour passed without Julian’s return, garnering Zenia’s ire, mostly because she couldn’t find him, or Asra. She felt like an idiot, but she had put it together and needed to tell someone, really either of them. She knew what it was she had dreamed about.

She knocked at the Countess’s door, peering in, “Pardon, but I was wondering if Julian and Asra had left for the day?”

“No, they should be down in the laboratory,” Nadia said, confused.

“The what?” Zenia was trying to avoid Emilie’s glare. She wasn’t sure what she had done to her to make her make the handmaid hate her so much that she could almost taste it.

Nadia looked as if she was trying to figure the best way to describe it, “One of the dungeons was set up for the doctor to use as a laboratory.”

“That seems ominous,” Zenia said.

“Yes well, Julian loves his dramatic. Stay for tea?”

“No, I have to pass on a message,” she smiled, “but I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Alright,” Zenia waved.

She tried to make it through the corridor and looking like she should be doing so. She hesitated looking over the gaping maw of the passage to the dungeon. The entirety of the palace was beautiful, even in the weirder aspects like the Count’s menagerie hall. But the doorway seemed so out of place, and she wondered why someone would even put it in middle of the main hall.

Fucking mind games of the rich and powerful.

0x0x0

Julian washed his hands in the basin, “So as far as I can tell there seems to be no real abnormalities in the brain.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” Asra said, “What about these black spots on the tissue.”

“Could be from lack of oxygen,” Julian said, drying his hands off, and wiping down his leather apron, “When the brain isn’t able to get the air it needs it starts breaking down the grey matter,” he glanced up at Asra to make sure that he was understanding the basic lesson as he looked over the flayed corpse on the table, but stopped short.

Asra looked at Julian’s startled face, wondering what on earth had made him look suddenly as if he had realized that he needed the bathroom. He glanced over his shoulder, leisurely before he registered Zenia’s stricken face.

“Shit,” Asra started toward Zenia, “Zenia, don’t look.”

She leaned against the doorframe, looking intently at the body, “Who is it?”

Neither answered.

“Just a nameless man?” she asked, looking him over again, pushing past Asra. She was studying the corpse. His top of his skull had been sliced off, but she barely noticed it. His chapped lips were pulled back to reveal worn and broken teeth. He could have been alive yesterday.

“I know this can seem harsh, but we need to actually know what causes this sickness,” Julian said, trying to explain. He knew this didn’t look good, and he’d already known that. He should have just told her when he left what he was doing.

“What if it isn’t an illness?” she asked.

“What?”

“That’s what I realized,” Zenia said, dragging her eyes away from the corpse, “We’ve already supposed that the plague is in the water, and I remembered that there was a story in Nopal about the water…”

“The red beetle?” Julian asked, “I was with the army when Lucio killed it.”

“But it didn’t die, right?” she asked, “It just split into a bunch of tiny beetles and they went into the ground right? And into the water?” She stared at him across the body, “What if the reason that no treatments have worked is because it’s not a disease? What if it’s a-“

“Toxin,” Julian said, it dawning on him. He picked up his scapel, “Hold his arm for me.” 

Zenia came around the table, stabilizing the limb as Julian started shaving skin down so he could see the veins located there. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for or what he was seeing.

Asra stood by somewhat perturbed by the lack of effect this seemed to be having on her. Typically the people who ended up as cadavers for study were criminals or prisoners of the Counts. He had expected her to be inconsolable. Her own parents had ended up with their heads on pikes, and their bodies sent off to the citadel university for the medical students to study. 

She held her glasses in place peering at the veins, as Julian tried to examine them. He looked up at her, his face lit up.

“Oh my god,” he was grinning, “We don’t need a cure, we need an antidote.”

She was grinning at him. Her hands were bloody and her glasses were sliding down her nose, and she had never been more wonderful.

He dropped the scalpel on the table, and pulled his gloves off to not sully her dress before grasping her shoulders, “You are absolutely amazing, my love.”

“Yes I know,” she grinned.

He grasped her face in his hands, “I need you to go to the library and research everything you can find on the red beetles. Facts, legends, everything!”

“Alright,” She grinned up at him, “That I can do.”

He held her close and kissed her, quickly, “I need to show any research you can get together to the Count as soon as you can.”

“I’ll do a write up.”

“Thank you,” he laughed, “I needed that reminder.”

Asra tried to look anywhere else, but he just felt so terribly awkward being in this room with them. He had told them that he was fine with them being together, because he wanted Zenia to be happy, but he wanted to just close his eyes to what it meant for her to be happy. He wanted to be all right with stepping away from her, but it didn’t hurt less.

“I’m going to finish the autopsy here, and I’ll be up to help you,” Julian smiled down at her. He was absolutely thrilled to finally have a foothold for progress. He’d felt this before, but there was actually a chance to figure out the damned biological mystery that had been keeping him awake for months.

She hurried from the room and up to the library to start pulling every book she could that might have anything to do with red beetles in the index, dropping them on Julian’s desk to start digging for information. She took a sheet of paper out and started taking notes, writing out facts and details. 


	13. Knife in the Library

Zenia looked up startled by the sound of a book smashing against a wall over her head, and shattering the sterling silence. She adjusted her glasses, still squinting at the thin waif of a girl that had come into the room.

Emilie was smiling that rage filled tense smile, a lavender silk garment over her arm, “Her ladyship thought perhaps this would fit you,” she was smiling in a way that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Thank you,” this was such a surreal experience, “Uh, pardon me, this might be terribly rude, but did you just throw a book at my head?”

“No, I threw a book over your head as a warning shot.”

“Uh, why?”

"Because that I have more honor than an assassin in the dark."

"Alright," Zenia watched her, standing slowly, "But why are you giving me a warning shot?"

“You don’t know me, do you?” Emilie was staring her down, dropping the dress over the back of a chair and she approached Zenia, a knife appearing from between the layers of her fine dress, “My name is Emilie Moore.”

Zenia’s brow furrowed, her brows screwing together as she tried to put together the thread of information through the memories and the information that she had been trudging through. Then the realization was slicing up her spine on the way to her brain, “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” Emilie picked up another book, her eyes gleaming as she threw another book, just missing Zenia’s head.

“Please stop that,” Zenia stood up, glaring at her, “Look I know there might be some poor feelings here, but I need you to listen. I can explain everything.”

“I’ll listen when you’re dead!” Emilie was charging around the desk at her, hands shaped into claws.

“That makes no sense!” Zenia screamed back.

0x0x0

Julian and Asra had been walking leisurely down the corridor until they noticed the odd screaming sounds weren’t likely one of the birds in the Count’s menagerie. They were both pretty sure that there were no birds here that knew the words “Psychotic” or “bitch”, but then stranger things had happened.

Julian could run faster, his longer legs covering the marble hallway in over extending strides toward the sounds. Asra took on look over the room and put a sound-binding spell over the door, before shoving it closed.

Zenia had the pale handmaid on the floor, holding her wrists in place on the floor, “I do not want to fight you!” she was trying to kick Emilie’s knife further out of reach.

“Fuck you!” Emilie screamed at the top of her lung before digging her teeth into Zenia’s forearm.

“Please stop biting me!” Zenia yelled back at her, her voice dipping into a strange baritone.

Emilie was mumbling out a response that was probably threatening, but was muffled by Zenia’s arm.

Without thinking, Zenia smacked the woman on the back of her head, “Quit it!”

Julian’s arms slid around Zenia’s waist pulling up off of Emilie, and she didn’t fight him as he lifted her. She didn’t want to fight anymore, and this entire thing was so stupid. Asra grasped at Emilie, trying to pin her against the wall away from Zenia.

“You can put me down,” she peered up at Julian over her shoulder, “I didn’t start it.”

“What is happening here?” Nadia’s voice chilled the entire room.

The Countess streamed into the room, her face the very picture of constrained rage. She glanced between the four of them waiting for an explanation that no one seemed eager to give. They stared at the floor, or the walls, anywhere to not look at the Countess.

“Emilie, speak,” Nadia demanded, her voice cuttingly level.

“She killed my husband,” Emilie said, her chest heaving in rage.

“I did not,” Zenia said.

“You’re a lying bitch!” Emilie started forward again, only to be halted by Asra’s hands, restraining her.

Zenia rolled her eyes, “this is ridiculous. I’ve been trying to explain that this is a gross misunderstanding-“

Nadia turned her steely gaze to Zenia, “Is it a misunderstanding? I fail to see how murder might be a misunderstanding.”

“Her husband is Claude Moore, who by the way is a complete piece of shit-“

Emilie snatched a book from the shelf behind her and threw it at Zenia’s head, and blanched as Zenia caught the book in her hands without flinching, passing it to Julian. He took the book from her without a word. He wanted to sink back into the walls out of the way of whatever was happening, but even as he thought that he felt loyalty swelling in his chest. He would stay by Zenia even if there was a rope around her throat.

“I swear I did not kill Claude,” Zenia said, measuring her words and steps, “Let me guess, if I may. You met Claude shortly after your parents died, and he promised you a job as a housemaid. I’m guessing he would leave you alone for days on end, claiming that he was dealing with affairs of state? And slowly he began to profess love for you. How old were you?”

“Fifteen,” Emilie’s eyes squinted at her. Her words came out so heavy that they could make the floor shake if they landed.

“And he waited a few months before confessing his love, and asking you to marry him in secret? The priest even came to your house? Am I right? How long were you with him?”

“Six months, but-“

“Were you pregnant?” Zenia asked. That was the only way Claude ever kept them more than three months.

Emilie pulled back, “Yes.”

“Usually he only kept his wives for two months. Just long enough for any family they might have to become confortable with the distance,” Zenia said, “The reason he was gone so much was that he had to hold up the same façade in the other five houses he leased out,” Zenia walked slowly toward the handmaid. “After two months, when they were pliable, he would sell them to Madame Bendonie’s brothel.”

“You’re lying,” she snapped, “You don’t know anything about him!”

“I never finished a commission without at least three weeks of investigation,” Zenia said levelly, “People come to have men killed for all number of reasons, sisters dislike brothers in law, men dislike their children’s lovers, or they want to collect on a debt unpaid. I never took work that wasn’t justice.”

“High and mighty, aren’t you?” Emilie spat, “You know how many people want your head? The Poisoned Flower, that’s what they used to call you. But you still did those monsterous things.”

Zenia winced at the pretentious name as she pondered a moment, “If you want to find him so much, you can. Last I heard he had taken a ship to the Northlands, but who knows if that’s true.”

“You paid him off?” Julian asked.

Nadia stared at him, wondering how long he had known about this. She hated not knowing things, and this was a great deception. She was almost impressed that he had been able to keep his loquacious little mouth shut.

“No, he wasn’t worth the silver,” Zenia scoffed, “I beat the shit out of him,” she faltered, “Pardon my language, my lady. I beat him, and I told him and I told him that I had the addresses of every house he leased, and every name he had used to do so, and if he did not leave the city I would take him to the palace guards and let them deal with him, and the three associates I'd been tracking.”

Emilie’s chest raged with information, “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“What house were you at?” Zenia asked, tilting her chin at him, “the blue house on Insil Road, or the brown stone one at the foot of the hill? There was another one by the river, a shoddy affair made of red stones, though it had lovely large glass windows along the front, and-“ she stopped short, seeing Emilie’s eyes widening, “the river then?”

Emilie’s face was sliding in to a panic, as her brain whirled in place.

“Your child, son or daughter?” Zenia asked.

“Neither, miss,” Emilie glanced down, “I lost it in the shock.”

Zenia’s brow furrowed a moment, “Someone told you he had been killed?”

“The priest, miss.”

“Tomas Lasillier,” Zenia said, “He’s not a priest, but a midlevel confidence man.”

Julian was watching the Countess nervously, not sure what the look on her face was. His whole body was tense, almost leaning forward. He was ready at a moment to throw himself to her, grasp her up in his arms and run from the palace. He hated the idea of running from their problems, but he hated it less than the thought of letting her down.

“So, Ms. Marin, you were an assassin and a spy before you entered my employ?”

Zenia turned, hesitantly nodding, “Yes, milady.”

“And Doctor Devorak has known this for how long exactly?” Nadia turned to Julian, expecting his answer quickly.

“A week or so,” he admitted.

“And you did not feel that it was fit I should know this? Should I not know that a woman I have accepted as a friend of this court has such a dangerous set of skills?” She rounded on him, "She has been privately in my company."

“He wanted to protect me, milady. I put that life behind me, and I want nothing more to do with it,” Zenia interrupted Julian before he could speak, "If you are angry with anyone, let it be myself alone."

Nadia sat in one of the overstuffed chairs, watching Zenia and Emilie, “Emilie you should have told me of this. You understand that any attack on a friend of this court would be grounds for immediate dismissal if not arrest and execution.”

Zenia stepped in front of Emilie, blocking her from the Countess’ piercing gaze, “I did say it was a misunderstanding. If you want to dismiss her, I’m sure you would allow me to take her on as my own.”

The Countess stroked her chin with the side of her forefinger thoughtfully. She wasn't pleased that Zenia was running this entire discourse, but she could see the fierce need to protect them all in her eyes, “A woman tries to kill you and you would hire her to tend you? You are either very kind, or very stupid.”

“We all make mistakes,” Zenia said, “don’t we? I won’t have a well-trained professional punished for a misunderstanding, or for my own actions. I should have ensured that all of those girls were alright. Once they go into that brothel, they rarely come out.”

“Would your funds cover a servant for your mistress?” The Countess asked Julian.

Julian hesitated, "I would have to go over my accounts, my lady. And we would have to have a negotiation as to her salary, but I agree with Zenia on this. I would be willing to take her on, if Zenia is."

“I have some money set aside,” Zenia looked at him. Her lover was already so much more tangled up in this than she liked, “Not much but enough to keep her for a month or two and give her a good reference. Her hardships are not of my making, but if I may be of help I will.”

Nadia thought a moment before rising and walking to look over Zenia’s shoulder at Emilie, “I will pay your wages, and you will be in Ms. Marin’s service while she is here. If you do not show gratitude to her for her kindness, I will have you dragged through the streets by your hair until you are dead, is that understood?”

Zenia reached back for Emilie’s hand to comfort her, turning to look directly in to those eyes so pale grey that they were almost white “Emilie, will you go work on that dress for me, please?”

“Yes, miss,” Emilie’s pale head bobbed.

“Thank you,” Zenia smiled, “You may go to work now. I'll be up presently.”

Emilie picked up the lavender dress and she was gone quickly, all but running from the library.

“I hope you do not come to regret your forgiveness. I would hate for you to wake in the night to a knife at your throat,” The Countess said, turning back to Asra and Julian. They both looked as if they would rather be anywhere in the world that in that room. The Countess wasn’t sure how she should feel about any of this. On one hand she respected Zenia, but on the other, something had to be done about this. She sat back in the chair, thinking, “Does anyone else know?”

“Not that we know of,” Julian said, "I've tried to make inquiries discreetly, but I haven't even been able to find out if anyone remembers Zenia living in the city,

“I didn’t work under my name. I used a different one,” Zenia explained.

"What name was that?" The Countess asked.

"My birth name Ksenia Aniramov," Zenia said, "My parents changed it to Zenia when we came here. I took it back when I started working."

“Then we will have to hope that it remains a secret,” Nadia said, her jaw moving, chewing over the decision, “I don’t want you to be under the misrepresentation that I am not deeply offended by this secret.”

The three of them awaited her to speak, not sure what else any of them could say. There was nothing to be done but wait for the words to come.

“I would have hoped that you all would have trusted me with this information sooner,” Nadia said when she finally spoke again, “I will spare you a punishment for this deception, that I will warn you is tantamount to treason against the seat of this city. But I will not do it without expectation that this decision may work as an investment on my part.”

Zenia looked up, almost certain of where this was going. Her nerves set themselves on edge, knowing what was going to be asked.

“If I ask you, and I pray I will not have to, to use your skills for my benefit, I will not accept no as an answer.”

“My skills are yours for the taking, milady,” Zenia said, not able to keep the edge of hesitance out of her voice.

“Good,” Nadia rose, “I will retire now, and go prepare for dinner. May I use your lady’s maid until I can acquire one of my own?”

“Of course,” Zenia nodded.

Nadia gestured Julian and Asra toward herself and Zenia, and waited until they four were close together before speaking again, “I will consider this episode over and we will not need to speak again of it. But I want you to learn this lesson well, if you lie to me or keep secrets, I cannot protect you. Is there anything else you haven’t told me?” She glanced between them, noting the look between the three, “What is it?”

Julian licked his bottom lip before he said it, “Zenia’s parent died in a revolt against the old Count.”

Nadia nodded, “and someone has figured that out.”

“We aren’t sure,” Julian went on, “It could be nothing-“

“Valerius at the very least suspects it,” Zenia interrupted, “He called me by a nickname my mother used to.”

Nadia let out a deep breath, “Have you ever done anything that might lead to someone suspecting that you might follow in their footsteps?”

Zenia hesitated.

“Well?”

“Zenia hasn’t always been keen on keeping her ideas to herself,” Asra answered for the first time in almost half an hour. His throat felt thick with the words he had held in.

“And have you spoken openly about starting a rebellion?” Nadia reiterated her question.

“I’ve attended a few meetings discussing more liberal domestic policy, but they’ve all been based on the idea of peaceful protest, and petitioning,” Zenia answered, “We’ve seen how well violence works.”

“I don’t know that you see the irony of that statement coming from a hired knife,” Nadia smiled, shaking her head, “When was the last time you attended one?”

“A month or so,” she admitted.

Nadia smiled, “I’m sorry to say you’ll have to give up your politics, or at least become more keen on holding your tongue. If anyone asks you anything about it, you must tell them to speak to me. I don't want you to answer any allegation or insinuation to anyone. I don't care if it's the Consul, or a kitchen maid.”

"I understand," Zenia replied, "Thank you, milady."

Nadia placed her hand on Zenia's shoulder, "I would appreciate it if you would bring Emilie to my chambers. She will dress us both. Come now, and let the gentlemen catch their breath."

Julian passed Nadia as she started forward, and pressed his hands to her cheeks, relieved that she was safe and sound. She pressed her hands over him, closing her eyes, tilting her head back for his kiss. When his lips left hers, he leaned his forehead against hers, savoring the touch and his relief flooding him.

"Zenia," Nadia called gently, "We will already be late for dinner."

Zenia pulled away from Julian reluctantly, and followed the Countess obediently. She had sworn an oath of fealty with her words, and she would be loyal to Nadia for as long as she could be. 


	14. Pretentions and Revelations

Zenia dressed with Emilie’s help after the Countess’s dress was done, “I’ll do my own hair. There’s little enough of it, and I know you have enough work to do.”

“Yes, miss,” Emilie said, her eyes downcast.

It made Zenia sad to see her look so upset. She turned to face the young woman, and she reached out to touch her cheek, “Call me Zenia. We’re going to be friends.”

“I’m still angry,” Emilie said, sounding as if she felt guilty.

“Anger is natural, but you need to do something with it,” Zenia said, “I’ve felt angry for more of my life than I’ve felt anything else. If you don’t do something with it, that anger will burn you up.”

“What does one do with anger?”

“The natural thing that society would tell a young woman to do with anger is to work on watercolors,” Zenia smirked, “Find what it is you want, and I will do everything in my power to help.”

Nadia couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but she was watching them nonetheless. She had to think of something for every possible way that this could play out.

Zenia and Emilie were hugging now, and Nadia wondered at what sort of world Zenia had grown up in that she could have a threat on her life and turn it into a new friend. There was something almost charismatic about that nearsighted girl. Asra had been apt in his description of her. She wasn’t a great beauty by the sum of her parts, but rather adorable. But there was something about the way she looked at people that made them feel as if they were the most important person in the room. Her almost black eyes behind those glasses were typically unwavering, and they stared into you as if she saw you as you were, and how you wanted the world to see you.

Emilie kept her eyes down as she crossed to the Countess’s vanity, waiting for her to be ready to have her hair done. She stood there like an obedient servant, as if nothing had happened. She glanced at Zenia’s reflection in the looking glass as she was taming her thick black hair. There was something about this entire episode that unsettled her, but she couldn’t admit that just yet.

0x0x0

“Do you think I can ask Zenia to stab Valerius?” Nadia asked Julian in the salon, “Would she do it?”

“Frankly, I think she would do it without you asking,” Julian admitted.

“Is she so uncomfortable with us all?”

“Us? No, not at all. She wouldn’t have stood up to you if she didn’t feel comfortable with you,” Julian gestured minutely with his wineglass, “But them, she’s playing it well,” he smiled at her across the room, even as she was facing away, “but you can see that she’s trying to control herself.”

“Is she?” Nadia asked, watching Julian’s expression. Of course Zenia was, but she wanted to understand Zenia better.

“I bet you in the next few minutes, she will adjust her weight to her left leg and shift her other foot to rest behind that leg, the bottom of her foot pointed up,” he watched her head stop moving and her hip shift, “There it is,” he smirked.

“What do you think they’re talking about?”

“It could be the weather as far as any of it matters,” Julian turned back to the Countess, “He’s insulting her in the polite way, and she is trying to return his barbs, and it’s a losing battle for both of them.”

“Then why do they do it? Are they sharpening their claws?” Nadia asked, knowing the answer. It was a bizarre mixture of social obligation and an almost spiteful fun with just a dash of competition.

“Who knows why we do anything. I am a man of medicine, not philosophy.”

0x0x0

“It must be tiring for people to be so pompous all the time, how do you think they manage it?” Zenia asked.

“By sleeping on silk cased goose down pillows,” Valerius smiled back, “My god, I don’t think I could sleep any other way. How do you find it? Do you sleep better or worse now that you don’t have straw under your little head at night?”

“Quite agreeable, thank you for asking. If you’re ever interested in trying something new I can have a bale of hay sent directly.”

“I have plenty on my lands, but we use it to feed our cattle.”

“Your serfs or your cows?”

He laughed, “Ah, you are an awful little bird, and I don’t enjoy your company in the slightest.”

Zenia didn’t even feel offended by the statement, “Well at least I know you are capable of being honest. That’s a relief, and if it will make you feel any better, I don’t like you either.”

“Then why don’t you go back to your room and wait for your master to come back to your bed?” Valerius took a long drink of wine, “That’s where you belong, isn’t it?”

Her weight shifted as she looked up at him, “I am here, because the Countess has asked that I do so. There are as far as I see a few ways that we can precede, and I think as a grand lord it should be up to you to decide. We can maintain our smiling facades and throw insults at each other, which I am fine with because I enjoy the test to our wits. We can ignore each other entirely. Or, and I think this might be my favorite option, you can stop being a sanctimonious asshole.”

“You aren’t witty,” Valerius said, “I could no more ignore you than a stone in my boot, and,” he pondered carefully, “I am not the problem here. I may be a sanctimonious ass, but you are a grimy little whore. No, that might actually be an insult to whores, who are content to their lot in life.”

“I didn’t choose this.”

“No, but your parents chose to come here and try to cause riot and ruin in this city, isn’t that right, Ms.  Aniramov?” 

She rolled her eyes at him.

“You took part of your name and reversed it,” he pursed his lips before he clucked his tongue, “Stupid girl.”

“I would recommend speaking to the Countess about this.”

He stiffened, confused by her confidence, “What?”

“I don’t believe I stuttered,” Zenia replied, “The Countess expressly told me that if anyone were to try to give me any trouble about my parents that I was to direct them to her,” She smiled a little, her head tilting, “Oh dear was that not what you were hoping for?”

He was studying her like a poisonous snake that he had mistaken for harmless, “No I suppose not.”

She finished her wine in a long gulp and set the glass down on the side table, “I’ll let you go talk to her, and I should be getting back to my boudoir so I can continue spreading my legs like the whore I am,” she smiled, “Good night.”

Zenia crossed the room gracefully, her smile in place, “I think it’s getting rather late, dear.”

“Oh, yes. I suppose it is,” Julian smiled getting to his feet. Nadia stood as well, opening her arms.

Zenia didn’t hesitate and went into the hug, trying not to be surprised by it. “Valerius just mentioned my parents and my birthname,” she said quickly, “I told him what you said.”

“Good,” Nadia whispered back, “I’ll handle it.” She stepped back, “We should have breakfast, Ms. Zenia. Eight o’clock?”

“Sounds wonderful,” Zenia curtsied, and took Julian’s arm.

“Was it bad?” Julian asked.

“I may have told Valerius that he was a sanctimonious asshole,” Zenia admitted.

Julian smiled down at her, “Was that wise?”

“In my defense he called me a whore, which I find… disappointing. I would think with all his highbrow learning he would have better insults. And anyway, if I am your whore, shouldn’t someone be paying me?”

“Why do I always miss the best parts of the evening?” Julian groaned, his head lolling back.

“You find my awkward social interactions to be the best part of the evening?” she asked, looking up at him, “I’m sorry my romantic attentions are so dull.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it,” Julian leaned his head over her.

“I should hope not,” Zenia smirked up at him, releasing his arm, and turning for face him, walking backwards, “otherwise I would be very offended.”

He liked the teasing sway in her step when she did this. His eyes rolled slowly over her, watching his mistress, devouring her with his eyes. He wanted to know what it was spinning in her head that made her blush so, or her backward steps quicken. He matched her steps without hesitation, and he watched her smile widen before she turned and was running down the hall from him, trying not to laugh as he chased after her.

She was out of shape and her breath ran ragged as she tried to open the door to their rooms. She reached for the door, just as his hands landed against the wood of the door on either side of her. Her giggling would undo him as easily as anything. He pressed forward against her back, kissing her bare shoulder before she turned back to face him. Julian studied her before leaning back down to kiss her, her fingers reached up to stay him. He smirked and kissed the tips of her fingers.

He didn’t notice her free hand go to open the door, but he wasn’t even angry with her when they collapsed on the floor, but kicked the door shut behind them with his foot, stroking his gloved fingers over her cheeks. 

It surprised her that his appetite for her wasn’t sated, in spite of everything that had happened. She accepted his kiss, but when his lips left hers she would tell him that she was tired and just wanted to sleep. The trouble of it was that his lips didn’t leave hers until she wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore. She studied his face a moment before gently pushing him back, “Not tonight.”

He had the grace not to look disappointed, and she tried not to show how much Valerius’ words had affected her. He sat back on his heels, looking down at her lovingly, and she knew he didn’t think of her as a whore, but she didn’t like that she was one. She was by legal status a slave, and if he wasn’t as decent a man as he was she would be at his mercy.

He reached his hands out to her, to help her up as he stood, “I’ll help you with your dress.”

“You needn’t, sir,” Emilie’s voice startled them both them up from her place in the doorway, “I can do it.”

Julian smiled politely, even as he was unsure of Zenia’s decision to let this girl into their home, small as it was. He plopped back to sit on the sofa watching Zenia and Emilie start to cross to the dressing room. He slumped down in the couch, his sprawling over the floor. He wondered sometimes why every piece of furniture felt so small and stiff.

Emilie looked pointedly away from him as if she could see out of the corner of her eyes. Normally he would feel somewhat guilty at making someone feel uncomfortable, but he didn’t care how Emilie felt about him. He wanted to hurt her for threatening Zenia.

Zenia reappeared in the doorway of their bedroom and threw a pillow from their bed at him, “You’re sitting like a slut.”

He smirked at her, his eyebrow quirking at her, “But I’m your slut.”

She rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh. Her fingers worked taking out the pins at the back of her hair as she mouthed ‘stop’.

“Do you want wine?”

“No thank you,” she called over her shoulder at him, going back into the room.

“He’s a fine man, Miss,” Emilie said quietly, taking the rest of the pins out of her hair, and putting them in the small box on the vanity top.

“He’s a rake,” Zenia smiled back in the mirror as she rubbing lotion into her hands and arms, “Don’t mind him for a moment.”

“He doesn’t like me,” Emilie said, frankly.

“He didn’t like me much at first,” Zenia replied, “you’d be surprised at how easily he warms up to people.”

“Does he?” Emilie’s pale smile glinted, “He seems more like rogue out of a pirate story.”

“The shirts don’t help,” Zenia laughed, “all he needs now is an eye patch.” She had a strange feeling when she said that, her smile freezing.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

“It’s nothing. I guess someone just walked over my grave,” Zenia tried to smile again.

Emilie looked at her levelly, rubbing Zenia’s shoulder, feeling her skin before realizing that it might not be proper, “Let’s get you dressed for bed, miss.”

“Oh yes. It’s been such a long day,” Zenia stood up, “Though if I’m honest any day without a corset is a good one.”

Emilie smiled, “I swear if I ever find out who created cages for ribs I’ll knock over their grave marker.”

“Let me know and I’ll help,” Zenia said, letting the handmaid unlace her belt, and the back of her dress and help her out of it.

The bedroom door was cracked open and Julian couldn’t quite tell himself what about that was so enticing, but he looked away, and stepped away from the lone of sight. He knew there was something in him that he didn’t like, but he felt himself losing a battle with his baser instincts. He felt that there was some dark predatory part of his soul that wanted to make every terrible decision that teetered on the brink of his subconscious. 

The dark wooden dresses at that far side of the room held her new clothes and his worn ones. Emilie looked over the doctor’s clothes, noticing the dark materials and leathers as she hung up Zenia’s dress, and adjusted the hangers on their rack. She curtsied to Zenia, “Anything else you need, Miss?”

“That’ll be all, Emilie,” Zenia smiled, pulling Julian’s dressing robe over her nightgown. She was dressed all in black like a sorceress. 

“I can have that tailored for you, if you’d like, Miss?”

“I don’t think Julian would like that,” Zenia laughed, “It’s his.”

“I thought so,” Emilie smiled, “good night.”

“Good night,” Julian said in a singsong tone as Emilie left. He was lying out on the couch, his long languid form a devastatingly beautiful sight.

Zenia picked the pillow up off the floor and whacked him with it, “You’re a silly git. Stop giving Emilie trouble,” she said before the door was even closed. She hit him with the pillow a few more times for good measure.

“I yield,” Julian called out, his body turned to the back of the couch, “I yield to a strength greater than my own.”

She stopped, holding the pillow by the corner.

He snatched the throw pillow from behind his head and hit her back with it, making her leap back out of the way.

“That’s no fair!” she squealed laughing as he whacked at her hip. 

“All is fair in love and war!” he called out, chasing her with the full intent of holding his honor and succeeding in victory against the invading mistress.

She leapt up on the bed, resuming her assault, “But I have the higher ground!” He lunged forward, pinning her against the bed.

He smirked down at her before he let his guard down and his smile widened into a grin. She wondered hos it was that his eyes were always heavily lidded as if he had been genetically altered to be so absolutely seductive. She tilted her head, “I’m tired,” she said, trying to reiterate her earlier point.

“I know. I’m not going to do anything,” he smiled at her, sliding his body off of her as if to prove it, “I just…”

“You just…?”

“I don’t think there are words for what I feel right now. The whole day was so insane in every way, and I…” he was trying to think of the words, “You figured out a puzzle that’s been staring at me for months, and I should have spent the whole day worshipping you as a goddess.”

“Stop or I’ll blush.”

“I like it when you blush,” he smiled and pressed a kiss against her cheek, “I love you.”

She smiled back. He’d said everything but those words in that order. He had said it every other way that he could have, and she knew she shouldn’t be so surprised, but she was. She hadn’t expected it. She had thought that he might have never said it at all. He’d said he was in love, besotted, enamored and mad for her, but she had thought that he might just… fall out of love eventually. He still might. There was no telling what would happen, it was all still rather new. They hadn’t even had a fight yet, had they? Not really. 

That aside he loved her right now, and she loved him, too. She whispered it into the space between them and he smiled even wider, sillier. He was so beautiful, and so wonderful, even if he was as likely to try to agitate people into drama as he was to just smile and be happy. 

She could deal with the rest of this later. She could deal with the nerves of her revelation later. She could think on how there was no way this could end well later, but for now, she could just be happy, and let him hold her and tell her outlandish stories until she fell asleep against his chest.


	15. Stupid Bugs and their Practical Applications for Plague

It actually disappointed her that it had taken so long to realize what it was about his eyes that pulled her in. It was that there had only been once in the weeks they had been sharing a bed that she had seen Julian sleep. He had always been awake when she fell asleep and up before her.

It was worse when the realization only came to her when she woke up in the middle of the night and he wasn’t there. It was the gripping moment of panic she had been sure in the back of her mind was coming some day. She was up and running down the corridor, the dressing gown flying behind her, and her bare feet slapping against the stone floor. She tore into the library, her steps slowing in some bizarre respect for the sanctity of learning.

She could see the light coming from Julian’s alcove and she was worried that someone was going through his things, but on the other hand was almost sure what she was going to find.

Julian was poring over a thick book, his eyes not leaving the page as he wrote on a sheet of paper beside the book. She wondered if that was why his handwriting was always so awful. Her mouth opened to tell him off, but she stopped short. He flipped a page, and she noticed his attentive smile, and the way his pen sped up.

Her hand was pressed over her chest to keep the robe closed over her nightgown, but now she could feel her heart speed up in her chest. She pressed into the space, “Need some help?”

He leapt up, startled. She laughed, “I’m sorry but that will never not be funny.”

“What are you doing up?” he asked, pulling the chair out opposite his.

“I could ask you the same, but I already have the answer,” she picked up one of the books she had pulled earlier that didn’t yet have strips of paper sticking out of it, “Found anything interesting yet?”

“The basic chemical compound of the red beetle toxin is unknown and completely unstudied because, well, they’re completely stupid to most entomologists, that’s people that study bugs.”

“For fun?”

“Yeah,” Julian smiled, “And they’re still relatively new as far as bugs go. So I hope you like reading bizarre mythos that has probably been mistranslated.”

“I do know a little Nopalese, but probably not enough to be useful,” she admitted.

“Oh?”

“I can ask how people like their coffee,” she reached over to take his notes, scanning them, “Julian.”

“I can read them to you?” he said apologetically.

“You’d better,” she smiled, picking up a pen and looked at him, “Begin.”

0x0x0

“Do you ever sleep?” she asked at dawn as they went back to their room. They both smiled at the maids, coming down to get to the kitchen for their breakfast before starting their day, their giggling stopping short as they passed them on the stairs.

“I usually get a few hours in, but not as much as I probably should.”

“Are you speaking as a doctor?” Her hands squeezed at the crook of his arm.

“Oh yes of course,” he said, “I would advise the patient to get plenty of-“ his eyes rolled back in his head and he tumbled forward. Zenia’s hands gripped his arm tighter to try and catch him before he righted himself laughing. She loved his laugh even as ridiculous as it was.

“Oh I hate you!” she yelled, smacking his arm, “You jus’ scared the shit outta me!”

“Your face, though!” he couldn’t stop.

“You need to sleep, you’re getting silly,” she held the door open for him, “When was the last time you slept?”

He plopped down on the edge of the bed and smiled as she was helping him with his boots, and his shirt, “You’re good at this.”

She smirked back at him, “undressing you?”

“Taking care of me,” he said laying down and lifting his legs up so she could tuck him in.

“Yeah yeah,” she smiled, “Get some rest. I’ll bring you up some breakfast in a few hours.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna get dressed and go to the library. I’ll go over a few more books and I’ll go over the report and do a nice write up for you to take the Count.” She kissed his forehead, and whispered, “Go to sleep.”

His dark eyelids slid shut against the kiss and the blessed spell he could feel coming over him, easing him to sleep.

His hair fell in his eyes as he turned on his side, and she brushed it back with gentle fingers.

She had breakfast with the Countess, and she would go after working a little. She wanted to get something together that might present well. She dressed herself quickly in a simple dress with a matching jacket. It was pretty, but practical.

0x0x0

“May I make a rather indecent suggestion?” Nadia asked, sipping her coffee.

“Will I blush?” Zenia asked, settling back in the sofa.

“Probably, but not for the reason you might think,” Nadia said, before falling into silence, weighing her words before she said them, “Valerius isn’t going to be able to hurt you with your past, because I have vowed myself to that cause, but he can hurt you with your present circumstance.”

Zenia watched her carefully, “What would you suggest? I can’t exactly take any legal action. As far as I know your husband has given a literal paper deed for me over to Julian, who burned it, but it doesn’t negate the fact that I’m sure there’s another copy somewhere in public records. Which is fucked because slavery isn’t even legal.”

“And there is only one way it can be negated, and there is a constitutional proviso for prisoners of war, and situations left the discretion of a ruling party. Now if you wanted to go to court and fight the Count we can certainly do that, but there is also another solution that would absolve this bizarre situation.”

“What’s that?” Zenia asked, “We could burn the other copy, if it even exists.”

“The paper doesn’t as far as anyone has been able to find, and I have had people looking, but it’s been passed by word of mouth. No one has any proof, but every courtier believes that you are a piece of property.”

“So, what we change the perception of the wealthy dogmatic ingrates?”

Nadia smiled, thinking again.

“You’re making me really rather nervous.”

“I think that if you were to have a different document, with a different title on it, then it might ensure your position.”

Zenia shifted, her brows falling, “Say what you mean.”

“I think that perhaps you should marry Julian.”

It wasn’t a surprise by then. Zenia had guessed that that was where Nadia’s words were heading. She didn’t answer right off, and looked away. She barely really knew him. She had told him that she loved him, but she had told other men that, and hadn’t married them. He had told other people that he loved them, and he hadn’t ever married.

“I suppose it’s my turn to feel nervous.”

“I don’t know that Julian wants to be married to anyone,” Zenia said finally, “I can’t imagine him being married.”

That wasn’t entirely true. She could imagine it, but she wasn’t sure it was a feasible imagining. She could imagine him being doting and living in a small house with an office on the street level. She could imagine their lives being sunlight dappled and her trying to help. She could imagine being a doctor’s wife, and she could imagine a brood of children that would be the perfect mixture of them both, but try as she might, she couldn’t actually see it happening.

She tried her hardest to see that future, really see it in her mind’s eye, but it felt like there was something missing. Something was blocking her from seeing past the middle of January.

Zenia took a deep breath, “Anyway, shouldn’t that be his decision?”

“If you waited for Ilya Devorak to ask you to marry him you would be ghosts before your wedding,” Nadia said, “Are you sure he hasn’t said anything about it?”

“I don’t know,” but she did. He had said he wanted to take care of her and give her a good life, and protect her, and… “I’m not sure.”

“We can only do so much with a mistress, but a wife we can work with,” Nadia said, as if her marriage was a business transaction, and it was. Every marriage was a partnership, or ideally should be.

“I’ll ask him.”

0x0x0

Zenia brought up a tray for him around ten o’ clock, and brought him his coffee, setting it on the bedside table. She sat on the edge of the bed as he started up, accepting it. He didn’t look well rested, but he looked like he had slept finally. They didn’t say anything while he drank his coffee. He leaned back against the headboard, enjoying the late morning sunlight on her hair.

“Do you…” Zenia started before faltering. She took a deep breath.

“Do I?” he asked, sleep coating his throat.

“Do you want to marry me?” she asked, wincing.

He closed his eyes as he was thinking on what she had said, trying to figure out if she had asked what she had asked.

“You can say no,” she added quickly, “Nadia thought that it might be a good idea-“

“I am going to choose in this moment to forget that you’re asking to make an honest man out of me because Countess Nadia said you should,” Julian said, holding his hand up.

“That is fair,” Zenia said, nodding slowly as she reached out to try to get his hair not to stick up on the side. Her attempt at taming his hair was a complete failure, but she found she liked it.

“Do actually want to marry me?”

“I hadn’t thought about it, and I hadn’t really thought about being married at all, I mean I’ve never really had an inclination that maybe I would be married,” she was rambling.

“This is a dream. I was having a dream, and I’m still sleeping,” Julian said, “There was a goat in here a moment ago. It was a giant goat, though not a regular goat. A regular goat would be somewhat odd, but not the weirdest thing ever. A giant goat though, that’s not normal,” Julian said, “He had wine, and I didn’t want wine, but the Goat man insisted. It was an awkward situation.”

“I can’t imagine my life without you anymore,” Zenia said quickly, “I know it’s still early, but all of the logical reasons aside, I want to share my life with you.”

“That’s much better.” Julian laughed setting his coffee aside, “Though I’m still not sure I’m awake.” He leaned forward to kiss her, his arms wrapping around her, and pulling her against his chest. “You are awful at proposals.”

“Yeah well, shut up.”

“I thought it was a given,” he said quietly, getting up out of bed and kneeling, and taking her hands, “I thought it was obvious.”

She didn’t want to be married yet. She didn’t want to have to rush this thing. She felt the enormous weight of it on her even as she smiled and nodded through his words.

“I want you to know that I’ll do right by you,” he said, and it was the first words she had heard in a long stream of words, “and those logical reasons are important too. And I know we have to do what’s best here.”

“Nadia said she would witness for us.”

“Will this keep you safe?”

“She thinks so.”

He was nodding, “I love you, and we’re going to do this properly.”

She looked at him, still smiling, “Alright. Let’s go.”

“Now?” he asked, smiling, getting back up to his feet.

“If that’s alright?”

“Yeah, let me get dressed. Go tell the Countess that her evil plan is working,” he teased, kissing her forehead.


	16. The First Day of the Rest of Their Lives

It was a small notary office in the town square, with shelves overstuffed with strolls tucked into nook shelves along the walls. Emilie and Nadia stood by at witnesses.

“I swear to protect you and honor you from this day forth,” Julian vowed, holding her hand.

“I swear to only obey you when you aren’t asking something stupid, or that I don’t want to do-“ Zenia shot a look at the officiator as he was trying to correct her.

“Miss, that’s not the way-“ the officiator started.

“Sir with all respect, I’d rather she vow something she will actually uphold,” Julian smiled at her, “I’m not marrying her to get a servant on the cheap.”

“And I swear to honor you,” Zenia smiled up at him.

He slipped the ring on her finger. It was simple, and made of hammered silver, and his matched it. It wasn’t what he would have wanted for them, but he could only give her the protection of his name and home. It was strange to think, since he was certain she would be far more apt in protecting herself and him than he ever would be.

0x0x0

They sat in the library afterwards working over their pages, but Julian couldn’t focus on what he was supposed to be doing. She smiled across the desk at him, and winked. It was a strange feeling, like everything in the world had changed and yet had stayed exactly the same.

There was this anxiety in the pit of his stomach now that it was over and done. He couldn’t stop thinking that it had been a mistake in some way. Many people married faster than they had done, but he felt as though he should have done better. It felt like a secret, even as he wasn’t ashamed of her, his wife.

But that smile of hers was a balm to his nerves. He did love her dearly, and he knew that once they were free of this place that he would take her away from the palace, maybe away from the city. They hadn’t talked about what they wanted from the future beyond the abstract terms of happiness.

She set her pen down, and straightened the papers out in the stack she’d compiled, “I think that covers preliminary information, but we need actual beetles to test their poison, don’t we?”

He accepted the papers from her, smiling at her copperplate lettering, “If we can get any such samples, it would be a boon to our work.”

She grinned, “Our work?”

“Now it is ours, yes,” he flipped through the pages, “Yes, good.”

“I can go down to the riverbeds and see if I can find any samples?”

“That would be a good idea. But I have a feeling there’s someone closer by that might have some.”

Zenia nodded, trying to remember where she had seen the beetle symbol.

“Vlasomil,” Julian said, “If you can coerce him it would be helpful.”

“I’ll do what I can,” she nodded, picking up a separate leather folio.

“What’s that?”

“Something I put together for the Countess, though I was debating whether or not to give it her,” Zenia held it against her chest, “Let me know how it goes with the Count?”

“I’ll leave out gauze for whatever gets thrown at my head,” Julian smiled, tilting his head back to accept her kiss.

“You should try ducking,” she teased, kissing him again, “Good luck!”

0x0x0

Nadia looked over the pages in the folio, “What is all this?”

“Well, if you wanted someone to work for you incase you needed to go against any possible enemies, I thought perhaps I should bring something as an example, since we don’t exactly have resumes…” Zenia smiled, “It’s nothing really, just some preliminary observations.”

Nadia flipped through the pages, her brow furrowed.

“That’s purely preliminary,” Zenia reiterated.

“Have you been going through public records?”

“Yes, I find that money trails are fairly easy, but there are gaps, so if you want a network, we would have to start hiring people that work in the households.”

“Is that easy?”

“Typically not, but we would need to set aside quite a bit of resources,” Zenia walked back and forth.

“Where are my manners, sit please,” Nadia gestured to an open chair.

“I find that in business I prefer standing,” Zenia said, “I think faster on my feet.”

“And you need to be thinking fast just now?”

“Yes,” Zenia said, “Now, if you’re concerned about the fact that the major observations I’ve made so far are mostly limited to the major courtiers that you have. But from snippets of conversation I’ve been able to overhear, they are the in all likelihood the biggest threat to your reign as it is. They’ve been discussing a ‘bigger picture’ for their idea of economic expansion into the territories, but as far as I can tell they haven’t brought this to anyone outside of their little circle.”

“And you think there’s a danger of some coup?”

“If I were going to try for a power grab, I would seize an opportunity like this,” Zenia gestured through the window to where the Count’s tower lay in sight, “This is the moment for something to go terribly wrong. You’re a powerful woman, and you are doing your best to maintain your power. You need to make them realize that if this is the way things are going to be, that they so because you will them so.”

“You’ve thought on this rather hard,” Nadia tilted her head a little, stroking her chin again, “And how do I do that?”

“If the Count were to die, god forbid,” Zenia put her hand up, “but if, you are going to have a power vacuum on your hands and you are going to have to bring those idiots to heel, and well as much as I hate to say it Valerius.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Valerius is not an idiot, and while the others might be rather like very stupid puppies, they will follow him because he has experience and a conniving mind,” Zenia nodded, pacing again, “And anything that might happen, I would put at his feet.”

“So what do we do?”

“We might kill him? But that might cause more trouble than it’s worth. He’s tried to blackmail me, and he seems to have eyes everywhere, but I do know one place that he wouldn’t have any and I’ll try to get some associates to see if I can find anything on him.”

Nadia didn’t say anything, but instead looked back at the pages, one brow arched.

Zenia faltered, “With your permission of course. I can just sit on all of this, if you would prefer.”

“Let me think on it,” Nadia said, “I think you’re right to be concerned about them, but is there anything outside the palace that we need to be concerned about?”

“Oh absolutely. Despite what your men might tell you, there’s a fair amount of discontent in the city, and we might need to start addressing that.”

“Any groups like the one you were involved in?”

“Again, the one I was involved in was based purely in social change through education and training people for jobs such as stone masonry,” Zenia said, weighing the ‘but’ before going on, “But there are people that are far less opposed to violent resistance.”

“And what would we do about these groups?”

“I would leave the ones that are less radical as they are, and plant people in the groups calling for burning the city down,” Zenia went on, “I would get more information. Support groups that you can work with, and turn the ones you can’t against each other.”

“Is that what you think should be done, from a moral standpoint?”

“My morals aren’t the point.”

“They do have to be something to weigh when you give me these pieces of advice.”

“I am speaking as a consultant at this point. If I was dealing with something on this scale, this is what I would do.”

“But you don’t like it?”

“I think that without any sign of resistance doesn’t allow for progress, but I think people that are dangerous are still dangerous.”

“I think it’s interesting that the groups on the chopping block are ones that you don’t have a vested interest in.”

“I’ve been to meetings on both sides of this thing, and the ones I’ve seen actually being helpful should stay in place. The ones that sit around talking and doing nothing are fat to be cut.”

“That’s rather heartless.”

“That’s what you need right now. But don’t move against anyone in the city until your house is in order, and we can work on those issues as they evolve. I would further recommend that if we ever do move against any resistance in the city that we be sure we have copious amounts of information first. Actually copious amounts of information are a critical point.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk so much as you do now,” Nadia watched her, “I will give all of this some serious thought,” The Countess rose as she watched her, “Though if I may say, I do like that you are the first person that seems squarely in my corner in a way that goes beyond simply friendship. I think you might actually be the first person to offer me any real help.”

“I am at your service,” Zenia curtsied.

0x0x0

Asra stared at Julian, confused by the words coming out of his mouth, “You’re married?”

“Yes, this morning. It was small, simple civil ceremony. I just thought you should know,” Julian said, hands up to fend off any attacks.

“I just can’t believe this is happening,” Asra said, walking through the library, and pausing short, “I’m sorry. I am happy for you. Please tell Zenia I’m happy for her, too.”

Asra went out through the gardens. He just needed to clear his head. That was all he needed to do, just accept what was happening, as absurd as it was.

That Zenia was married to that quack of a doctor, that she had agreed to marry him, was so unreal that he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. It was something he knew might happen, but he still couldn’t quite figure out why it was so upsetting now. He knew he had to let go of her, but it was almost as if she had wormed back into him and fish hooked his heart. But she didn’t love him and he needed to make it stop. He needed to just accept that this was best for her.

He could still remember the first time he had seen her, and he needed to just forget that look of complete hopelessness on her face. But it ran through his head anyway.


	17. Obligation at First Sight

_Asra was a slight child, and his growth had been stunted by hunger and cold. He’d been spotting for a friend when he saw her. Zenia had an aunt with a shop that she’d run away from without a second glance. She didn’t have a lick of street brains between her ears, and she was staring at a cart of apples while she was trying to figure out how to take one. Her eyes were squinting against her blurred vision as if she couldn’t actually see what she was doing._

_He watched her amused by the fact that she didn’t know not to work alone. He scanned his eyes over the street again, looking for anyone looking too closely or any guard or official. He tugged his earlobe and scanned again._

_The squinting girl with dark hair was shoving apples into a bag hanging off of her shoulder, when she grabbed the wrong one, sending the stack of fruit rolling forward on her._

_She leapt back out of the way of the fruit, staring up at the screaming man that reached out for her. The girl was quick on her feet at least. Asra scanned the road again, Yasmine was out of the way, purse in her hand and running. He leapt down from his perch on the wall, his hood back up on his head and started running at the girl, snatching her arm and ran with her tripping along behind him._

_When they got closer to the docks he slowed down, turning to look at her, his voice full of laughter, “You have to be more careful than that!”_

_Zenia stared back at him, squinting._

_“I’ve never seen you around before. Who do you run with?”_

_She looked around as if she was trying to figure out who he was talking to, or what it was he was talking about._

_“Cat got your tongue?”_

_Her shoulders bobbed._

_“What’s your name?”_

_The girl held her wrist out to him, showing him a silver bracelet with her name and address printed on it._

_“Zenia?”_

_She nodded hesitantly._

_“Are you lost?”_

_She shook her head._

_“Live on the street, then?”_

_She nodded._

_“But you’re new?”_

_She nodded again._

_“You don’t talk much, do you?”_

_She shook her head._

_“Can you talk?”_

_She nodded._

_“You just don’t?”_

_She looked over his shoulder at the wall. It was where the heads of the rebels were hanging, rotting. She walked past him, forcing him to follow. She was staring up between two of the heads._

_“Your parents?”_

_Her jaw was tightened like she was trying not to cry or speak. She wanted to know why it had happened._

_“You have anywhere to sleep?”_

_She shook her head._

_“Ok, come with me,” he took her hand and led her along to the docks._

0x0x0

“I ran you a bath, miss,” Emilie smiled as Zenia came into the chambers to change for dinner, “I thought it might be nice.”

“Thank you,” Zenia smiled back, looking into the bathroom. She liked the sweet flowery smell of the oils and petals in the water, and felt how tired her body had become.

She sank into the water and Emilie collected her clothes carefully going out of the room. The water was hot, and tendrils of steam rising out of the water.

She heard the door open and wasn’t surprised when Julian walked in, grinning at her.

“Hello, little wife,” he kissed her forehead.

“Are you going to join me? It’s actually nice.”

“It’s a bath, of course it is,” he teased her, undoing the knotted cravat at his throat, “I could do with a soak. I’ll go undress and be back.”

She smiled, sinking back in the water.

When they were both in the bath Emilie moved quickly, picking up his clothes from the floor and went to the closet and started taking them down, hangers and all. Nadia swept into the room to help her, a smirk on her lips. She took an armful of clothing, and pressed a finger over her lips as they slipped out to the sound of their stifled laughter. The Countess dropped the envelope on the bed on the way out of the room.

Julian splashed a wide arch of water at Zenia who squealed a laugh out.

“Stop that, you’ll make a mess!”

“It’s water,” he leaned forward, “but if it displease you, I won’t do it again.”

She smiled, “You’ll do whatever I tell you?”

“As long as you want to command me,” his gaze drifted over her.

She grinned at him, “Is that a promise, then?”

He held his ringed hand in hers, “You’ve got my promise bound here on your little finger,” he pressed his lips against the metal binding that finger, “You don’t regret it, do you?”

“I have many regrets in my life, and being your wife won’t be counted among them.”

“How can you be so certain of that?”

“I know what I know. I don’t have your high learning and I don’t have the privilege that life has granted you of your uncertainty.”

“Is that what it is?” he asked, trying to remember that she didn’t say anything to hurt him. She spoke freely with him, “Am I to take my own nerves as a privilege?”

She moved slowly in the water, and Julian noticed with a sense of awe that the water barely moved. She slid forward until her back rested against his chest, “I only mean that you need to stop worrying about things. Just work to make things better where you can, and accept the things you can’t change.”

He relaxed feeling her warm against his chest, “I had a mind to be offended, but I find I can’t bear to be angry with you.”

“But you’ll have to be some day,” she turned her face to his, seeing him just out of the corner of her eye, “We will fight and bicker, but I want you to understand that when we fight it’s only to know each other better. When there are obstacles in our lives we may fight at first, but we have to remember that we have to fight together against whatever it is that’s opposing us.”

“How do you always know the thing to say?”

“I’ve known married women before, and as much as I like to talk, I like to listen just as much. That’s how you learn.”

“I love you,” he smiled into her shoulder, kissing her skin.

“Good, you’ll have to love me for a very long time.”

He smiled, “If we wouldn’t be late for dinner I would ravage you.”

Zenia groaned, “I suppose you’re right,” she shifted in the water again, the overfilled water still not moving, not a drop moving over the tub’s lip.

He watched her bare body until she wrapped a linen towel around her to dry herself off. He wanted to run after her, to wrap her up in his arms and kiss her from head to toe, but he followed her suit and dried off, trying not to fall victim to those dark eyes. She followed him close to see him as best as she could.

He wondered how someone with such poor vision had been able to fight. He supposed it was just a stereotype, but how had she never lost her glasses?

She smiled over her shoulder at him as she turned out of the room. Julian leaned forward to look at his reflection before drying his hair with the towel.

“Oh…”

Zenia’s voice was so soft that he barely heard it, but he heard her sudden shock. Hurrying into the room, Julian felt a panic for whatever it may be.

“What’s the matter?” he asked when he saw her staring into their open closet.

She stood back, gesturing in to the open cabinet, “What’s wrong with this picture?”

He walked around the bed to stare into the closet, “Where are our clothes?”

“Then it wasn’t you?”

“No, of course not, if it were we wouldn’t have left the bath,” Julian said, “I should have been suspicious when they brought the tub up,” his eyes scanned over the room and landed on the envelope. He picked it up and opened it quickly, recognizing Nadia’s handwriting. The sheet of paper had only one sentence in her arching beautiful hand.

“‘Enjoy your wedding night’,” he read out loud to her.

Zenia looked confused until she realized what the words meant, then she started laughing, “I would think that Nadia would have more pressing matters on her mind than this.”

“She loves her friends,” Julian said, sitting on the edge of the bed, “It is something of a relief though.”

“You aren’t hungry?” Zenia asked, pacing toward him, slowly.

He didn’t answer, but reached out his hand for hers and pressed a kiss to her knuckle and her wrist, breathing in the floral scent bathed into her skin, and the sweet scent of her flesh under that.

She smiled, biting her lip to hold back a giggle at the feel of his breath against her skin. Her impish smile widened to a grin and teased him, “You’ll answer me when I ask you a question.”

“I find myself distracted from food at the moment,” his hands reached forward to take hold of her waist, pulling her closer to him. Her small hands found his auburn head and tilted it back to look at her. She pressed her lips against his, savoring the soft smooth skin of his mouth. His mind reveled over the words in his mind: _my wife_.

0x0x0

Zenia traced a fingernail gently over the marks she’d dug into his back, smiling at him as she did it. Nothing felt different between them, nerves aside. Nothing had to change when she thought on it. She would have to be presented differently, but that was a matter for consideration at a different time. Julian rolled over to look up at her, his grey eyes shone with his affection.

“Are you satisfied?” she asked, trying to hide the bite of those self same nerves in her voice.

“Yes, of course.”

“Even as I don’t know how to do the things you want me to? I am trying.”

“And I love you dearly for trying,” he rolled on to his side and looked up at her, his head resting in the palm of his hand, “We’ll learn what we like, and we’ll learn to work together.”

“You seem so much more calm about this whole thing than I would have guessed.”

“How do you mean?”

“It took near a month to get a kiss out of you, and you married me this morning without hardly any hesitation. I was expecting more of a fight from you.”

He nodded, smiling down away from her as he thought of how to answer, “Maybe I grew tired of fighting and dragging my heels. This isn’t how I imagined it, but that’s life.”

“You’re coming around to my philosophy then?”

“I’d better do, you’re my whole life now,” he reached out to stroke her arm, “And I want nothing more than to make you happy.”

“And you will do, my love,” she smiled, as his touch gave her goose bumps. She lay down next to him, “It’s such a strange thing, love.”

“So say the poets.”

“But I mean that we feel something and it affects every part of our bodies. Is love in the brain?”

“Everything is,” Julian looked down at her, “Though we do not feel it there. It would be so much less poetic if we got headaches instead of heartaches.”

“I can just imagine that, though. ‘And as the knight did come to see his lady, forth he was sent away with only this. She had a migraine.’”

“‘And he did decry his own head’s ache because he had to ride a bouncy horse,’” he teased back.

“We should write out the entire tale,” she laughed, looking at him, “you have the wit to write.”

“But not the hand, I’m afraid.”

“I love your hand. The body part, your handwriting makes me want to scream in frustration. I wish you could have some sort of device by which one could just stamp out letters.”

“We could save our money and buy a printing press,” Julian mused, “Though we would have to find a place for it, and the time.”

“It would make my files look nice.”

“What files?”

She paused, looking up at the ceiling, “The files I keep on everyone.”

“Everyone?” he asked laughing, “Have you got papers on me then?”

“Not anymore.”

He stopped, “What?”

“Most of them are in my head,” she admitted, “I only took down information when I thought you might be a threat to me.”

“And what information did you take in that brief period of time?”

“That you have a low opinion of yourself, and that you were easy to beat in a fight, though I wasn’t sure why at the time,” she said all of it as if it were a confession, though to her it was one, “I had a suspicion that I was going to look into that either you had overly doting parents or your mother boxed your ears too much.”

“More the former than the latter,” he said, “I had a good family, not overly tender or overly harsh, just average. If I misbehaved I was punished, but my parents would also make a point of talking to me about why I was being punished.”

“Is that the sort of father you would be?”

“With all the patience I have, I will try,” he said, “Though if I’m honest I haven’t thought about having children until now.” He looked at her curiously, wondering if there was something she was trying to tell him.

She looked at him, starting a little, “I’m not pregnant.”

“I would have something witty to say if you were,” he teased her.

“Oh hush,” she smacked his arm, “I’m not sure I’m ready to have any children.”

“There are measures we can take, then.”

“What sort of measures would they be?”

He smiled, “Nothing so terrible. There’s about a week or so where we shouldn’t make love, but that’s the most we can do.”

“That’s it?”

“Let’s say eight days before your womanly times start, that’s the time when you would be most likely to conceive.”

“And if we’ve already passed that?”

“Then we’ll hope for the best and plan for the alternative, and note, I’m not saying that a pregnancy would be the worst. I just don’t want to put you in a position where you might have to be a mother before you’re ready, or wanting to be,” Julian smiled, stroking her cheek. “But I want children someday.”

She didn’t say that she wasn’t sure she did, but she still smiled at him. There were so many things they had never talked about yet.

“They’re likely to be stubborn little things, so we’d best be ready for it.”

She softened a little at that, and she did wonder what their children might look like. There had been plenty of times she should have gotten with child if his medical knowledge was right, but she hadn’t. She wondered if she was barren, and if he would still be happy with her if she was.


	18. A Misplaced Lady

The next evening they were not able to beg off the long affair of dinner. They entered the battle the same way they always did, together. Zenia’s hand was firmly at place in the crook of his arm, and she glowed the way only a new wife could. She smiled and accepted congratulations, even from the Count who made an unusual appearance.

After dinner he sat in a comfortable armchair, his dogs at his feet. He beckoned her over with a jerk of his head.

Zenia dropped in a pretty curtsy as Julian bowed.

“This is your new wife?” Lucio asked, looking her over, “I am pleased it has all worked out for you both.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Zenia smiled, “I have you to thank for it all.”

“Julian tells me I have you to thank for the discovery.”

“I wouldn’t have noticed without his work, sir.”

“Ah, yes. Process of elimination, isn’t it?” he glanced at Julian.

“Your people will be grateful for the research you have funded,” Zenia went on, “You are a great lord, and history will surely shower glory on your name.”

Lucio smirked up at Zenia, and there was something in that smirk that made her uncomfortable, “I should have brought you into court sooner. Perhaps the doctor would have made more progress.”

Nadia glanced sidelong at her husband, as if she found him tiresome.

“But now we shall have to start from scratch, won’t we?” Lucio went on, “You’ve been researching the beetles, Mrs. Devorak?”

“Yes, my lord,” Zenia said, holding back any information until she knew what he was after.

“And have you found any treatments for their toxin?”

“Not as yet.”

“Ah, yes, you had your wedding yesterday, I’m sure you were preoccupied.”

“We worked after the ceremony, my lord.”

“Ah, so how long would you say I have left?”

She hesitated, glancing at the Countess and Julian where he had gone to sit beside her.

“Don’t look at them, look at me,” Lucio snarled, “How long would you say I have left to live?”

Zenia paused, “my lord, may I speak honestly?”

“Please do.”

“I don’t know why you’re still alive. None of the infected have.”

“And what does that tell you?”

“Probably that you ingested a smaller amount, and if you’ve been given the poison multiple times it has been over a long amount of time.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s in the water that comes from the river and canals of this city, and you do not drink water, even when you’re told you ought to.”

He leaned on his left arm staring at her through squinted glare, “You’re an odd thing.”

“So I’m told.”

“And you are my dear doctor’s wife,” he chewed on that, “I thought perhaps I could give him love and it would be enough, but perhaps I was right when I worked from fear, instead. Guard!”

Guard Grigory stepped forward, his face the picture of resignation. Zenia turned her face to him, her jaw set hard. Her stance changed, her feet parting to shoulder width, and her hands rested together behind her back, a cruel smirk sliding across her face.

“Do you really want to do this, little Grigor?” she asked.

“Are you threatening a man of my guard?”

“I’m threatening a boy who I’ve licked in a fight plenty times before, my lord,” Zenia said, her voice teasing, “Take off that pretty armor, and I’ll do it again.”

“You have an order from your liege lord!” Lucio snapped, “I will remind you of your vows to me.”

Zenia remained unmoved, and said, “Does your left knee still bother you?”

“You will do well to learn your place!”

“I have been threatened more times than I can count, and I find that I am rather tired of it,” she never took her eyes off the guard, “I am quite through with whatever theatrical bullshit this is. I will serve you, my lord as long as it is necessary that I do so, but I will not be threatened by men that think they are my betters any more.”

“How dare you!” Lucio roared, standing up with the assistance of the canes, “How dare you, you think I don’t know what you are, you little murderous whore.”

“I think that is quite enough,” Nadia rose quickly and placed her hand on his arm, “And these scurrilous rumors were just that.”

“But she-“

“She is in my employ, husband,” Nadia said quietly, “And is doing work to keep our position safe. You must stop now.”

Zenia still did not take her eyes from Grigory. Her pose did not change and she waited on the Count’s order for the guard to withdraw before she slid the knife back in place in the scabbard hidden in her sleeve.

“She is our ally, my lord,” Nadia said quietly, “and I will speak with her about this outburst, but you must control your temper.”

“Did you hear how she spoke to me?” Lucio demanded.

“And she will be punished for that, but you must now let me handle it.”

“I trust you will do,” Lucio said, sinking back into his chair. It was just as well as far as he was concerned. His legs were aching from the effort.

“Thank you,” Nadia pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before turning to Zenia and snatching her by the arm, and dragging her from the room.

“I’m sorry,” Zenia said hastily, “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You cannot ever do that again,” Nadia hissed, “You cannot speak in that way to anyone.”

“I know, but I saw that look in his eyes, and I knew something awful was going to happen. I don’t know why I didn’t just take whatever it was.”

“You should have done.”

“I know, my lady.”

“I thought you would be safer married.”

“Honestly? I think he’s safer for it. That’s why I agreed.”

“How do you mean?”

“I have a feeling that Julian would be useless if anything were to happen to him. But I will protect him, whatever the cost.”

“Together you make one person,” Nadia said thoughtfully.

“My punishment?”

Nadia took a deep breath, “I don’t like it, but it must be done.”

“What will it be?” Zenia asked, hesitantly, her hands behind her back, though not reaching for her blade this time.

There was the sound of a door opening from the sitting room. Nadia pulled back and slapped her hard across the face. She did it again, making Zenia’s knees buckle under her, “Get up.”

Zenia stood slowly, noticing Valerius’s smug face as he leaned against the doorframe, as she braced for another strike.

“Don’t make me do that again,” Nadia said in a deep voice, “Now go to bed before you shame me again.”

“Yes, my lady,” Zenia curtsied and hurried away, trying not to smile. She knew Nadia could have hit her harder, and though she may have embarrassed her, she knew that Nadia at least understood why Zenia did it, even if she didn’t.

Zenia could curse her own stupidity, and her own temper. She hated not being in control of things, especially herself. She couldn’t control anything but herself, and here she was, losing control of herself.

What was the worst that could have happened? He could have torn her nice dress or cut her hair, or bloodied her face up some, but here she was, in fine body, and a few steps down in the world. She had lost any footing she might have had, and now she was a weak thing, even if she had stood up for herself. Composure was everything to those men, and maybe she could have used weakness to tenderize their gilded hearts. Stupid.

She went out into the gardens through the passage hidden in plain sight. She needed to find something to punch, and a tree might do nicely. She wished the wind had been cooler than the sweltering summer heat; it might have helped with the stinging in her cheek.

There was a knot in her chest and in her throat and she felt like she wanted to cry for the first time in years. It was funny in a way that she could hurt herself worse than anything else. She wondered if losing Julian would hurt this much.

She wanted to go back and redo it. She could have been a lady and let go of everything she had ever been, and cried and begged. Maybe you couldn’t ever really let go of what life had made you. Maybe once the fabric of you was made it couldn’t really be unraveled and re-stitched. Maybe she was still that dark thing that would kill a man.

Maybe it really was what the others had told her, a bridge that couldn’t be uncrossed.

She stood up and went back to her rooms and put on the worn blue dress that a few weeks before had been the only one she owned. She put her scarf over her head and went back out into the night, knowing where she would go. The path under her feet once she reached the city was unchanged in the two years that had passed since she had walked it.

0x0x0

Julian followed the Countess’ advice and gave her a few hours to herself to calm down. When he went back to their rooms, he was ready to console her and tell her that he admired her as much as ever.

But she wasn’t there. He walked the gardens looking for her, but he was careful as he called her name not to do so louder than his speaking voice.

She was nowhere in the palace or on the grounds. At his wits end, he went to the only person he could think of, and banged on their door as loudly as he could.

Asra opened the door hesitantly, having checked the peephole first, and needed to open the door to be sure he was seeing correctly, “Julian?”

“Is Zenia here?”

Asra bit back the comment that bucked at his teeth, and said, “No.”

“Do you know where she might have gone?”

“There are a few places we can look,” Asra said, not adding that there was a likely possibility that Julian wouldn’t like, and that Asra hoped was wrong.

They went in at a few taverns, scanning the rooms before leaving again, and that probability became more and more probable with each place eliminated. He had hoped she would be at Mazelinka’s house, but when the old woman came to the door, and out into the street lamps’ light they both knew she hadn’t come there.

“I hear congratulations are in order Doctor,” Mazelinka’s grey teeth glinted up at the pair of them, “Where is your dear little wife? That’s what you’re here to ask, isn’t it?”

“Is there anywhere else she might have gone?” Asra asked.

“You’ve looked in all the regularly unseemly places, then?”

“If she didn’t come to you-“

“Then she went to Rodrigo,” Mazelinka said, “I don’t envy you that climb down. My knees will not allow it… you have eyes on you, by the by. So do be careful,” Mazelinka pondered a moment before calling out around them, “Or you know what, no. I don’t think that will work just now. Dear, would you like some tea?”

Julian and Asra looked back over their respective shoulders at the pale figure that neither had noticed following them.

“Emilie?” Julian asked confused, “How long have you been following us?”

Asra looked up at him confused, “Perhaps she meant to kill us?”

“I doubt it, she would have had plenty of chances,” Julian mumbled as she approached.

“When Ms… when Mrs. Devorak didn’t come back with you, I was worried something might have happened…”

“You should have just told us,” Julian said, “though I think perhaps you should have gone home.”

“I won’t, sir,” Emilie looked to Mazelinka, “Are you Mrs. Devorak’s grandmother?”

Mazelinka laughed, “Wish I was. She’d be better behaved, and wouldn’t have gone to work up on the hill. Get yourself home now.”

“Not until we find her, I won’t. She’s my mistress.”

“Oh ho, already? She was married just yesterday.”

“You know what she meant,” Julian laughed at her.

“You’re a handmaiden, then?” Mazelinka looked over Emilie’s dress, “If you’re going with them, that dress won’t do.”

“Where are we going?” Emilie asked, nervously.

“Come in and I’ll give you a worse cloak to cover it up,” Mazelinka moved back into her small house, and gestured to a carpet, “Lift that, doctor and get the door under it open.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Julian shrugged his jacket off at she sat and watched him, pouring tea from her guests.

“I didn’t know you were getting so far in years that you couldn’t manage a carpet,” Asra said, accepting her offered tea.

“I’m not, but how often do I have handsome men around to do my bidding,” Mazelinka said, her voice heavy with her laughter, “And before you put that pout on, I’ve known you since you were flinching fruit from vendors and your kneecaps were as prominent as your eyes. I’d no more gawk at you than my own grandchildren.”

Asra pouted just to spite her before chuckling back, “We should have taken you up on your offers to take us in. Did Zenia ever tell you why we didn’t?”

“No, she made all the polite excuses of someone apt at lying, though.”

“I couldn’t leave Muriel, and… I’m trying to think of her exact words…” Asra took a breath, “‘If we go to live with her, what will stop every orphan with a hidden pocket from showing up on her step?’”

Mazelinka rolled her eyes, “What a silly girl. She tries to save everyone and forgets that some of us are quite able to take care of themselves.”

Julian grunted a little as he opened the hide hole in her floor.

“See, that’s a trait you lack, dear Asra,” Mazelinka gestured at Julian, “Straining and drawing attention to yourself.”

Julian blushed at her words, not sure if they were a compliment or not. He reached into the deep pit and pulled out a bundle, “These aren’t yours?”

“No, a young lady I know had to get out of the city, and I helped her do so.”

“Why did she have to leave?” Emilie asked.

Mazelinka looked at her carefully, “The city didn’t agree with her.”

Emilie wanted to ask more questions, but didn’t. She sipped her tea and smiled.

“Take those and go change in the other room. You can pick your clothes up when you’ve found dear Zenia. I’ll stay up.”

“Thank you, dear lady,” Julian smiled and kissed the top of Mazelinka’s head.

“Oh get on with you, ya silly thing,” Mazelinka smacked at him, “you best watch your tongue. I’ll get you in trouble.”

“Probably,” Julian pulled his jacket back on, “but that’s life for you.”

She gripped his arm, something odd in her face, “Be careful. Don’t make my girl a widow yet.”

“I have no intention of dying tonight,” he assured her, his mask of heroic bravado in place.

“Most people don’t intend to die, but it happens,” she released his arm and started up from her seat and went past him to Asra, opening her arms, “Come here, my boy,” she hugged him tight, and he stooped down, “Come visit more.”

“I will gran,” Asra smiled against her hunched shoulder.

When they were back out in the streets, they walked as Asra's heels. Julian hid his confusion as Asra led them down a winding alley. It turned and twisted to a dead end. Asra paused looking down at a circular stone, “Are you sure?”

“I am, though I wish you would tell me where it is we’re going,” Julian said.

“Call it the pit of hell,” Asra said, “If you’re sure you want to go in, I’ll need your help.”


	19. Hell Itself

The city under the pavement was exactly what Asra had promised, the pits of hell. It was dark and the air was foul with impure air and the smells of too many bodies pushed together for too long.

“Is there no air allowed in?” Emilie asked, placing a hand over her mouth.

Asra pointed up as they went through the narrow passage, “Some sewage grates are not sewage grates.”

There were thin slashes of light from false grates overhead. Julian strained not to follow Emilie’s suit and press his hand over his face to stop the smell, but he could hear some commotion ahead of them, even as he asked, “Why would Zenia crawl into a sewer?” 

“It isn’t a sewer,” Asra said, turning a corner, “Not the type you would imagine, anyway.”

There were far too many people in the large open space, with too many tables. There were tapestries hanging over the carved walls that arched up in a great ceiling over their heads as they entered the chambers.

Julian felt suddenly overwhelmed by the cacophony of rogues and music. There were women and men dancing on ledges around the room, and people playing cards loudly, and drinking sloppily. The silence was worse though, when every head turned to look at them.

“I did warn you,” Asra mumbled.

0x0x0

“I really am not sure you need be so rough,” Julian protested as he was shoved into a more private room.

“Is that the first time you’ve said that?” Asra smirked as they were forced to kneel.

The man in the day bed wasn’t what Julian would have imagined the King of Assassins to look like. He was an old man with dark skin, and hunched over, with white hair twisted in sharp coils that hung over his shoulders. He was snuggled in layers of quilts, and his boney knuckles pulled the blankets over his chest. With a glance, Julian knew he was dying from a failing kidney, from the yellow of his eyes and the swelling of his belly under the blankets.

“Who do we have here?” Rodrigo asked, looking at them over his glasses, “Spies? Palace Guards?”

“No, I’m only trying to find my wife, King,” Julian said, doing his best to keep his eyes down.

“If she’s come here for sanctuary, we will not hand her back. In this place women are not property,” Rodrigo said, a hard edge in his voice, “How did you mistreat her?”

“I haven’t, or if I had it wasn’t with a purpose,” Julian said, “I am newly wed, and if Zenia wants to stay here, I will come or go as she asks.”

Rodrigo looked to one of the men that had brought them in, startled, “Aldus, did you know Zenia had married?”

“She didn’t say, father,” said the voice that must belong to Aldus. Julian glanced over his shoulder, taking in the large man, almost his height but broad and barrel chested. He had an earnest face and kind eyes. It was odd to see so many kind faces in a den of murderers.

Rodrigo took a breath in, and shook his head, “Go get her.”

Aldus nodded, leaving the prisoners with their guards and his father and went back out in to the din of people and waded through their calls for his company to find Zenia. 

She was at a table playing cards, and doing rather well as far as he could tell by her quick hands scooping gold.

“A lady would let me win it back,” the craggy faced man complained.

“A lady knows when to stop,” Zenia quipped back, taking another swig of wine, “But I’ll buy you a drink to soften the loss.”

Aldus stooped by her ear, “my father needs you upstairs.”

“Why?” Zenia started, looking up at him.

“Outsiders came looking for you.”

Her brow fell, “My husband, and who else?”

“A girl and… Asra I think his name is.”

She stood, and dropped a silver coin on the table, “A thousand pardons, but I am needed elsewhere.

When Zenia came back into Rodrigo’s room, she stared down at them her face the picture of rage.

“Are these yours then?” Rodrigo asked, a smirk on his face, “That one says you are his wife, but you did not think to tell your dear lady that they are newlywed.”

“An oversight,” she explained, “for which I am sorry.”

“No, no,” Rodrigo waved his hand, dismissing her words, a deep sadness in his own, “Why would you tell me of this blessed news? Because I would have hoped you would marry my son? Because you thought I would not be happy of your happiness where ever you had found it?”

“I thought you might be disappointed,” Zenia admitted.

“My plans are not to be fulfilled as I would wish, but few plans are ever so,” Rodrigo held out a hand to her, calling her to his bedside. He gripped her hand in his, and pulled her down to sit by him, “I always thought you would come back my child, but this is not how I thought it. Another hope dashed.” His weathered hand smoothed over her cheek gently, “Whatever the cause may be, I am glad to see you once more. I am glad that you are happily married, but make sure your husband knows that you have friends here and if he mistreats you he will not see another sun.”

“Don’t worry,” Zenia smiled, “He knows that I will gut him if he acts out.”

“Good, good,” he leaned forward wincing and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “If you will swear for them, I will allow your friends safe passage.”

She stood, and picked the knife from her belt and sliced her hand across the palm, holding it out for his inspection, “I do swear that neither I nor those in my company will in anyway endanger our brethren.”

Julian watched this encounter, fascinated, but rose as quickly as he was allowed when the king nodded his acquiescence, his hand digging through a pocket, “Let me see that cut.”

Zenia held her hand out to him, her eyes boring holes into his face as he put a salve on the cut and bound it. He stopped, “Am I allowed to do this, or is it against ceremony? I should have asked.”

Rodrigo shrugged, but watched the doctor’s every move, “I see no harm in it.” It did give him some satisfaction to see how tender Zenia’s husband was, and hoped it wasn’t a show for the eyes watching him, “Do you have anything that can help pain?”

Julian dug through his pocket, and took out a white vial, “This is milk of poppy.”

Rodrigo smirked, “My least favorite sedative.”

“It is the only thing I have with me now, but I will come back and bring something else,” Julian promised.

“No need, I’ll be done with pain soon enough.”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” Zenia teased him, “I think you’ll outlive us all out of spite.”

“If only that was all it took to live forever,” Rodrigo smiled at her, “Get on now, dear girl, take your friends and enjoy your vices.”

“With your leave,” Zenia curtsied, before snatching Julian by the ear with her unharmed hand, “Asra, Emilie, let’s go,” she smiled over her shoulder before dragging Julian along by his ear.

Rodrigo laughed, watching her pull her husband along by the ear. A few moments passed before the sound of her screaming came through the door. Aldus and Rodrigo exchanged a glance at the sound, and Aldus let out a deep breath that turned to laughter, “I don’t envy him.”

“She would have been good for you,” Rodrigo said, smoothing his hand over the quilts.

“We wouldn’t have been good for each other,” Aldus said straightening out the blankets over his father’s chaise, “It never would have worked.”

“But why?” Rodrigo all but whined as another sharp pain racked him.

“Because I never loved her the way a man should love his wife. She could only ever be a sister to me, and I don’t want that sort of marriage, Baba.”

0x0x0

“Could you both run along for a bit, and let me speak with my idiot of a husband?” Zenia asked sweetly, her grip on Julian’s ear still firm, and growing more intense.

“Of course,” Asra bowed his head, and gently guided Emilie’s hand to the crook of his arm.

Zenia tossed them her purse, “First round’s on me.”

“She’ll be pleased,” Julian tried to joke as the pair departed, “She’s been eying Asra the whole way over.”

Zenia let go of his ear roughly, her arm flying back with force, “What the hell are you doing here?!!” she started.

“You weren’t anywhere on the grounds, or in the palace, and you didn’t leave a note or anything, and I was worried-Julian’s hand went up to his ear, cradling the side of his head.

“Can I not have one night to myself without you sticking your big nose in the middle of everything?” Zenia snapped. She knew she should have left a note. She knew he was right, but she was so angry over everything.

“My nose is not that big,” Julian mumbled, “and what was I supposed to do? Wait by the fireside for you to come back? I was afraid that something might have happened to you.”

“And did you not for one moment think that something might have happened to you? No, of course not, because you have to be the chivalrous one all the time, even if I don’t need you to be!” she shouted back at him. She was annoyed that he wouldn’t yell back, but he finally did raise his voice.

“I am so sorry that I was worried about my wife,” his shoulders squared at her, “I am so sorry that I worry about you morning and night!”

“How very decent of you to bow to traditional duties.”

“Hang tradition! I worry about my wife because I love my wife, and I worry that you are going to get yourself killed because you can’t keep your mouth shut when a man with an army doesn’t even threaten you proper.”

“You knew what I was when you agreed to marry me.”

“And you knew what I am. I won’t sit idly by when I think you’re in danger. I might not have your talents, and I may not be able to protect you with my fists, or whatever it is that Isaac back there could have done to keep you safe. But I can’t just pretend that I am the type of person that might let you disappear without a word!”

“What then? You want me to beg permission if I leave the palace?”

“You don’t need my permission, I would just like to know. If you go to visit friends I want to know that you’re safe. I want to know who your friends are!”

She clenched her jaw, ready to scream at him again when she noticed the sudden relief on his face shift to a smile, “What?”

“I’ve been so worried about this moment, but now that it’s here, I don’t care.”

“What do you mean?” she looked up at him nervously.

“We’ve never had a fight before,” Julian laughed.

She rolled her eyes, “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“You can’t even be mad anymore,” he reached out to hold her face, and winced when she slapped his hands, but didn’t recoil. He held her face pressing closer to him, smiling.

“Alright, but what do we do now?” she smoothed her hands over his sides.

“Oh, I don’t know. But I think we should go and drink ourselves silly and do it quickly so we can go home and have delightful make up sex.”

“I like that plan,” she smiled up at him.

He bent and kissed her, and he couldn’t remember any kiss being as hard won or as sweet.


	20. A Terrible Threat

“Why do they do that?” Emilie asked, glancing over the dancers.

“It’s part of their training,” Zenia explained, shifting across Julian’s lap to speak to her, “It builds stamina.”

“Why don’t they just run or something?”

“Because,” Zenia explained, “Their task is harder running. When they can toss a blade, concealed somewhere on their body, and shave a man’s cheek they can move on to the next phase.”

“I don’t understand… are they barbers?” Emilie joked.

Zenia laughed, “No. Every member of this guild gathers here, and they are all under protection of the assassin king. That is why it takes so long to master. Not one drop of blood may anyone spill in the sanctuary, so every novitiate makes many attempts and misses by quite a bit at first.”

Emilie looked around her nervously, “Anyone may have a knife thrown at their head? At any time?”

“No you. Don’t worry. You’re in my protection,” Zenia finished off her wine and held her glass carefully as Julian refilled it for her.

“This was your home?”

“For quite a while,” Zenia smiled, someone over Emilie’s shoulder catching her eye. She smiled and nodded, waving her hand at them before disappearing behind her wine and her husband again. She pressed a quick kiss against his cheek as he glanced about him, taking everything in with a studious eye. 

“It’s amazing,” Julian said quietly, “It’s like a man made cavern. And the gutter grates allow for ventilation, Asra said. How did they build this place?”

“When they were building the old sewers, the builders put in dozens of these chambers. I don’t think we were the first to make use of them.”

“The stonework is amazing.”

She smiled, “We could stay here, if you wanted. We wouldn’t have to go back. No one would ever be able to find us,” she stroked the back of his hand with her fingers, “We need doctors here, more than they need you in the Court. There are so many people that can’t get medical help.”

“Are there not doctor’s in the city?”

“There are those that are, and those that say they are, but most people that live in poverty can’t exactly pay to find the difference.”

“Mazelinka is a healer?”

Zenia nodded, “And she charges as little as she can. There’s a clinic in dockside for women that need it. It’s small, and there are rooms that work like a shelter, but it’s not well funded.”

He was watching her, and she wondered sometimes if he thought of her only as a pretty oddity; something that shouldn’t exist, but that did. 

She tilted her head, “What?”

“I guess I’ve gotten used to people saying things rather than actually doing them.”

“And you would rather do?” she asked, hopefully. She didn’t want to live her life with a philosopher that had beliefs but didn’t try to do anything with them.

“I should think so,” Julian turned his hand over under her fingers, turning his eyes to her dainty fingers marveling at the course flesh at the tips of her fingers, “I’ll be able to set up a private practice when we cure the plague, and we will be able to ask the Count for anything. We could ask him to fund a clinic, and we would be able to staff it, and maybe… what?” he asked as she started laughing.

Zenia’s laughter felt like it should be an insult somehow, “Do you know how many people have tried to seek government funds to help the poor?”

“Just because they didn’t succeed doesn’t mean we stop trying.”

“No, I’ll allow that, but don’t be surprised if it doesn’t go the way you think.”

“Then we’ll find another way,” he leaned forward and kissed her.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for an optimist.”

“No?” he settled back in his chair, “I don’t suppose I was much of one until recently.”

“Am I to thank for that?”

“I suppose so,” he blushed, looking away, “You’ve been a great help to me in so many ways, and there is part of me that feels like you’ve only been punished for it. There’s something so terrible about the way all of this started.”

She traced her fingertips over the hunched back of his neck, “Such is life, my dear, but the way things start doesn’t have to affect the entire course of it.”

“How are you always so sure of everything?”

“I’m not, but I can pretend at it,” Zenia smiled, “That’s half the battle anyway.”

0x0x0

Zenia leaned over the desk, the thick leather bound tome open in front of her was not the most fascinating thing she had ever read, but she tried to find optimism in the fact that there was more information in it than she would know what to do with. She scribbled notes quickly out for transcription at a later time. Julian was up with the Count now trying out the newest concoction of hope that might show some level of progress. There was something about the Count that made her do terribly angry, since their last encounter a few evenings before. His words from months before that prodded awkwardly at the back of her mind.

“Do not make me come back down here.”

Those words had lingered at the back of her mind like the unfulfilled threat that was certain to be fulfilled. She took another sip of tea, trying to focus on the words as they sprawled across the page. She was sure that she was in as much danger as she ever had been, but she hoped that the promise of Julian’s protection would extend that far.

Julian hurried back to sit in his place next to her, “It would seem that we are making progress, my love,” he grinned at her across the desk, the stacks of books formed a city of knowledge framing his delicate porcelain face.

“Did the Count seem better?”

“He’s still in pain, but he seems as though he’s improving, so I think we’re on the right path,” he grinned.

“I’m still trying to figure out how it is he’s lasted as long as he has,” Zenia rubbed her forehead nervously.

“Your initial hypothesis was that he drank so little water that it wouldn’t have been such a large dose of toxin seems valid,” Julian reminded her, “And perhaps he’s needed to sweat it out?”

“If that was the case he would have been healed by now, wouldn’t he?”

“Not necessarily.”

She chewed her lip, “What if the poison was deliberately given to him?”

“It’s not impossible, but who do you think would do such a thing?” Julian sat back in his chair.

“There are plenty of people I could list off hand, and I don’t want you to think I’m being…”

“Just say what you’re thinking, Zenia. You’re terrible at preambles.”

“Vlastomil wears a red beetle broach, doesn’t he?” she said slowly, “I think we’ve been terribly blind to something right in front of our eyes.”

Julian nodded, the pieces of it coming together in his mind. Was that why Valerius and his brood had tried to replace him? It would make as much sense as anything else. He looked back up at Zenia, opening his mouth to speak, when he noticed the queasy look on her face, “Darling?”

“I’m sorry, I just felt a little off,” she smiled at him.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” she smiled, smoothing her hand over the dried ink of her notes, “I gave the Countess files on all of the threats as I saw them, and I gave her a new batch with the idea, so it’s up to her what we do next, if anything,” she winced a little again.

He stood up and went around the desk, pressing the back of his hand against her forehead, “you’re a little warm.”

“I think I’m just…” she stood up, “I’m going to go rest for a moment,” she pressed a kiss to his lips, “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t worry so much,” she stroked his cheek, “I’m just gonna lay down. I think I just ate something that isn’t settling right in my stomach.”

“If you’re certain,” he handed her a book, teasingly, “Poetry for my dearest love. If you’re unwell I’d have you read something that won’t dull your entire being with studiousness.”

She kissed him again, “you know me well.”

0x0x0

Zenia sat snuggled in bed with her book through dinner and smiled at Selena when she brought her up a tray with some soup, “Thank you, dear.”

Selena dropped in a quick curtsy, and started away, her eyes down.

“I miss you,” Zenia called after the woman that had been her dearest friend, but who didn’t even look at her now. She wondered over the bizarre twists of her life that she should have everyone she loved summarily replaced.

She pressed a fist against her chest, trying to stop herself from crying out in pain, and failing. He put the fist over her mouth to stifle it. She didn’t know what it was that was causing her so much pain, but she had an idea that was too frightful to admit. She hadn’t ever really thought that if she were to die that she would be as afraid as she felt now.

Death had always seemed an abstract certainty that dwelt far in the distance, over rolling hills and waves. Now she wondered if it were a likely thing that she should be so cripplingly afraid without the sureness of death.

She didn’t know what was worse, not having a diagnosis, or leaving it off entirely and leaving Julian with the shock of it. The mind went to such terrible places without cause sometimes, and she hoped that in a week’s time she would laugh at this flight of dire fancy.

As it would happen, she wouldn’t laugh again for quite some time.


	21. Worst Possible Scenarios

When Julian came to bed, Zenia was already asleep. He looked over her quickly, and felt his heart tighten in his chest when he looked at her. She was curled in a ball and she was burning with a fever when he pressed his hand against her forehead. Her eyes fluttered and opened and looked up at him in the way of anyone awoken from a deep sleep. Her dark almond shaped eyes almost focused on him, “What’s the matter, darling?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” she smiled, “But can I sleep a bit more?”

He smiled and kissed Zenia’s forehead, trying to put aside his own anxieties, “Get some rest.”

She nestled back into the covers and tried not to groan at the cramps wracking her body. She nestled against him and he was almost nervous about how hot she felt, but she insisted in a low grumbling voice that she was fine.

0x0x0

Selena didn’t like the new girl, she was just too quiet and severe and she didn’t seem to have a sense of humor at all. She was full of advice for how people should live their lives, and part of her doctrine was so set hard against gossip of any sort. One was left to question why on earth she would have become a housemaid.

The silence between them as they made their rounds was palpable, and the blood pumping in Selena’s ears was the main reason she hadn’t even heard Zenia until it was too late and they saw her.

0x0x0

“Doctor!” Selena called out as soon as she hit the door of the library.

Julian’s head shot up from his books, and he leapt out of his chair as his eyes registered the maid.

“Come quick! Zenia- she’s-“

He felt like the floor had been pulled from under him. The walls blurred past him as he ran, Selena doing her best to keep up and failing. 

Zenia was curled up in a ball her whole body rigid with spasms of pain. He didn’t know what to do, but sit by her and try his best to comfort her.

“Ilya,” she whimpered, her voice breaking.

“I’m right here,” he held her close against his chest, “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

The antidote wasn’t nearly close enough. Her eyes were bloodshot, and the veins on her arms stood out in harsh ridges against her pale golden brown skin. Someone had administered a higher dose than he could be able to do anything about now. 

Her hand clung to him, “I don’t want to die.”

Julian wrapped his arms around her. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted her to get better.

“Ilya, I’m scared,” she cried out, wincing, “I don’t want to die.”

Emilie hurried in, the Countess at her heels. Nadia stood stark still in the sitting room before turning to close the door to their chambers. Whatever was happening didn’t need to get out yet. 

Nadia’s mind reeled through every possible situation. She had read Zenia’s papers. The plague was a toxin and someone had to be responsible for it but she didn’t know who yet. Who would benefit from the deaths of both the Count and Zenia? Quite a few people actually now that she was thinking on it.

Julian’s eyes found Nadia’s across the room, and it struck her how absolutely helpless he looked before he looked back to Zenia, his jaw tensing. He had to be strong now. He had to save her. He smoothed her hair out of her face, “I’m right here, Ksenia, I’m right here. It’s all going to be alright.”

He’d never called her that, and if she had been able to think through the mental soup of her pain she would have been more afraid, but she only felt fear and pain now, and she would give anything for it to stop. She was afraid of dying, but she would take it now to make the pain go away. She grasped his sleeve harder, “Make it stop, please.”

Julian was smoothing his hand over her hair, mentally going through her words over and over. Make it stop. I’m afraid. I don’t want to die. All he could think outside of those words was that he could make it stop, even if he didn’t know how. Make it stop, and save her.

He registered her face for a moment, and the widened eyes confused him. His voice came out as a crackle, “Zenia…”

She didn’t know how it was happening, but it was. The pain was ebbing away, flowing out of her suddenly. There was a sigil on Julian’s throat that glowed into place slowly.

“What’s happening?” she asked, as her eyes found his and she knew they were red. He slid away suddenly, gripping his chest, “Julian!”

“It’s going to be alright,” he said quietly, trying to smile up at her. The pain was more than he had expected, but he felt relieved. He stroked her face as she began to panic, “You have to get out of here.”

Emilie moved slowly toward Zenia, tugging her arm, “He’s right, we have to get you out of here.”

“I’m not leaving him here!” Zenia yelled back.

“Someone wants you dead,” Nadia said, “You can’t stay here, and if something happens to you, you’re no good to us, are you?”

Julian smiled through the pain, “Get out of here, Zenia. I’m going to be alright, but you have to get somewhere safe.”

“How are you so composed?!” she laughed through her tears, “I love you. I can’t leave you here.”

“I’ll be fine,” he sat up slowly, “I love you.” 

“I’ll save you,” she whispered, “I promise.”

“From what?” he teased, trying not to wince.

She pressed her lips to his quickly. She knew they were all right. Whatever was happening was bigger than her, but she was in danger, and so was he. She kissed him again, and hurried to dress in her simple blue dress and put a scarf over her hair, watching him. She reached forward and touched his throat. She knew that marker. 

Julian grasped her hand and pressed it to his lips, “I’m going to be fine,” he pushed himself up, wincing, “I have work. I’ll send for you.”

Her eyes shone as they started to water. He was so much stronger than she had expected.

Nadia gripped Zenia’s arm, “Dear, we have to get you to safety.”

0x0x0

Asra’s head perked up at the sound of the bells jingling over the front door, “Coming!” he came out through from the back room, and almost froze in place at the sight of Zenia standing there.

“What did you do?” she asked.

“Can you be more specific?”

“What did you do to Julian?” she yelled across the shop, “What did you do?”

Asra prickled a little, “I don’t know what you mean.”

She pushed past him into the backroom, where she could smell herbs being steeped. She looked over the shelf, looking for a book, “What spell did you put on him?”

“I don’t… wait what happened?” Asra asked, following her.

“I was poisoned with whatever this red bullshit is, and now Julian is going to die. Now tell me what you did to him!”

“He cured you?” Asra sat slowly, staring away from her, “My god!”

“What did you do?”

“It was months ago. I thought maybe if we could find a way to cure the plague…” Asra started, “Maybe I would be able to leave, but there was something more that he…” Asra took a deep breath, “It didn’t work, but it did now?”

“He was looking at me, dying and I don’t know but suddenly I wasn’t. It’s like he took all the sick out of me, and has it in him now.”

“If it works, it shouldn’t last long,” Asra said.

“But we don’t know that it will?” Zenia leaned back against the counter, staring him down.

“No, but I know that you left the Count a little piece of magic that will let him live forever,” Asra pointed out, “And frankly, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“What was your plan originally? That Julian would save Lucio and everything would be fine?” Zenia asked, “What was the plan because you had to have one. What does the Count have on you?”

Asra stood up and walked to the pot of tea, “Want some?”

“Sure.”

“Do you remember Muriel?” Asra asked after a long moment of silence, setting a cup in front of her.

“Yeah, big, scary, angry face.”

“That’s what the Count has. He has Muriel and I agreed to work for Lucio to save him.”

“What does Lucio want from you?” Zenia sipped her tea, “If you were trying to find a cure, a real cure, you would have worked on it. There’s something else here that doesn’t make any sense.”

“You have no idea,” Asra said slowly turning his own cup around in his hands, “So we have to save your husband, and we have to get you both out of the city. If only you had a lot of friends that would be super helpful in any sort of secret operation.”

“Yeah, if only,” Zenia smirked.

0x0x0

Julian tried to control his breathing as the guards hauled him into the dungeon. He looked at the small desk that had been hastily constructed in the dungeon. He wasn’t sure why any of this was happening anymore. He knew he had to work, and he had to see Zenia again. But if he wasn’t going to see her, he needed to protect her.

The Count leaned in the doorway, “Just tell me how you cured the little bitch.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Julian said, “I woke up and I couldn’t move. I sent Zenia away so she wouldn’t get sick.”

“Where is she then?”

“I don’t know,” Julian took a deep breath, “I told her to go, and that I would find her when I finished my work.”

“You’re a shitty liar,” Lucio said, dropping awkwardly into the chair next to the desk, “You always have been, it was one of my favorite things about you, my sweet boy. Now, don’t lie, I infected her with my own blood to try and push your hand. Now, how did you get sick, if she’s the one that should be dying?”

“I don’t know,” Julian said, staring Lucio down. He wasn’t lying. He didn’t know what the hell had happened. One moment he had been begging the universe not to take Zenia, and then she was suddenly better and he couldn’t breathe.

Lucio reached his mechanical hand forward and brushed Julian’s hair out of his face, “Then we’ll find out.”


	22. The Night Of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! So this chapter has taken longer to write, and I'm still not really satisfied with it. There's probably only one more chapter left in this story, which is why I'm having such a hard time with it.  
> I also fell under the delusion that all of the Courtiers were old men, so I'm going to go back through and try to correct that as we get more information.  
> Thank you to ZephyrOnTheWind and WhenTheSkyDances for their comments, and CrimsonLibertiyBloodandFreedom, ZephyrOnTheWind, WhenTheSkyDances for their kudos as well as all of our lovely guests!  
> So here's my penultimate chapter for Forget Me Not!  
> Enjoy!

Zenia grasped at Asra’s arm nervously. This plan had been two weeks in the making, but if everything went according to the plan they would be fine. That was what made her so nervous. There were too many moving pieces, and she had been forced to make a deal she hadn’t particularly wanted to.

Nadia’s green dress had been tailored for her and she wore the badge of her embarrassment in the faces of the courtiers. She had dyed it black so that the stain was invisible, but she knew it was still there, deep in the fabric of the thing, a part of it that might be covered, but would never go away. She wore a black mask that was little more than a strip of lace over her eyes. Asra had given her a powder to rub over her eyes to improve her vision, though only temporarily.

The gates of the palace had been thrown open to the public of the city as they had been every year for the Count’s birthday ball. The entire palace was filled to bursting with painted faces and masks. It was perfect for what they were planning, but something kept pricking at her brain.

She had a concept at the back of her mind that this wasn’t going to end up going the way they had anticipated. It was normal nerves before any sort of mission. Her anxiety was only increased by the fact that it was her own husband she was trying to rescue. She felt herself watching every masked face that passed her, trying to make sure that she was registering any mannerisms that were familiar. She couldn’t approach anyone outright that she might already know. She scanned until over the crowd until she saw the back of Aldus’ head turning to find her. 

Zenia let go of Asra’s arm and walked with purpose towards the corridor, feeling as though something was pulling her along. She felt like a tuning fork was vibrating in her head. There was something she wasn’t seeing that she had to see, and she didn’t know what it was. She scanned the rooms as she went, realizing what it was that was bothering her. The Count was nowhere to be seen, nor were any of the five courtiers. This was the event of the social season, and they were nowhere. 

She felt her feet moving without her telling them where to do her eyes all but closed to the world around her. 

“Where is she going?” Muriel asked, a deep panic setting in the undertone of his level voice.

“I don’t know…” Asra admitted watching her nervously, “I’ll get her, but you know where to go, right?”

Muriel stared levelly down at Asra a moment before nodding gruffly and going toward the library, the keys, one to the library and the other to the red beetle key to the dungeon, Asra had given him hidden in the paw of his hand.

Asra hesitated before going after Zenia, a knot in the pit of his stomach. By the time he got out into the crowded corridor, he couldn’t find Zenia at all. He cast out his magic to try to find any sign of her in the place.

She had gone up the stairs into Lucio’s tower, feeling something terribly wrong washing over her, as she approached his door. She stopped short at the sound of Pontifex Volgura’s wheezing voice, “Where is the magician? Shouldn’t that little will-o-the-wisp be here by now? We have to get underway.”

“Patience,” Valerius said, imperiously, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the palace is rather difficult to transverse at this moment.”

Zenia looked carefully through the cracked door, taking in the sight of them all sitting around Lucio’s bed as if nothing was amiss in the slightest.

The hunched shape of Volta paced by the opened windows, snatching at the torn pomegranate flesh in her hands, “I do hope he hasn’t forgotten his promise.”

“I’m not sure I’ll bear anymore disappointment with the people of this place,” Vulgora snapped.

“Well if necessary, I’m certain you will be able to convince Asra to remember the promises we have upheld,” Valerius said, standing slowly to stretch, “That should give you something to-“

“Hush!” Vulgora snapped, lifted a metal-clawed hand at him and lunging for the door, and throwing it violently open. Those vicious eyes spanned over Zenia quickly before snatching the lace from her eyes and grasping her arm roughly, “Well look what I have found here. Now, shouldn’t you be quite ill somewhere?”

Volta hurried across the room and sniffed at Zenia’s face, “She’s not sick at all!” her mismatched eyes rounded on Lucio, “I thought you had infected her!”

“As had I,” Lucio said, his rage burning in his chest, but his body was weakened now by the affliction.

“So what do you want, girl?” Vlastomil asked, “Or do you mean to just creep at doors?”

Something finally clicked in place in her mind that she had been fighting off, “You aren’t humans are you? What are you?”

“What would make you say such a cruel thing?” Vlastomil asked.

Zenia felt so uncomfortable as Quaestor Valdemar joined them all, cornering her and pressing in close around her. She swallowed nervously, “The beetles, they’re some sort of talisman for some god, right? What is it you mean to achieve here?”

“We mean only to save our dear Count,” Valerius said, sitting back at the side of Lucio’s bed, “As your husband has seemed so terribly unable to do so.”

“And how?” Zenia asked, pushing away from the courtiers. She could kill them all, but that wouldn’t outright help her situation, or Julian’s. She knew the answer suddenly as the entire story poored into her mind, “By trying to become the Devil himself? You know how insane you sound?”

“Where is your dear little friend Asra?” Valerius asked, “He came here with you, didn’t he? What plan had you to save your husband? Did you think you could walk in here and insult us all, and think we might let you go? Oh, I don’t think so, dear fool.”

Her mind reeled over her options, and felt herself losing control of that power that had been building up in her for who knew how long. They were still talking, all taunting and jabbing at her, but she could hardly hear them over the fire building up in her head. This was wrong. These powerful people could just take everything they wanted without thinking about how it might hurt anyone else. Her eyes were stuck on Lucio and she suddenly realized that her hands had caught fire. She lifted them in the ringing silence, letting the fire curl from her hands, and leap through the air to the damask coverlet of Lucio’s bed that she had once so carefully made.

Asra ran up the stairs as quickly as he could, almost certain that Zenia knew now what had happened, what he had agreed to, and he doubted that she would care very much that he had done it to save Muriel.

He could smell the smoke before he fully registered what it was, and when he saw Zenia’s hands a light with flame, he flattered short, not knowing what she might be thinking. But as he looked at her face, he realized she didn’t have a plan at all.

Vulgora snatched her roughly by the throat, the gigantic puff sleeves of their tunic smoldering under Zenia’s hands as she was thrown violently over the balcony. The fire had already caught, and Asra without thinking ensnared the courtiers all by their ankles or other limbs, and yanked them out from the room. As they struggled and tried to get us, Asra blew a fistful of dust over them all, and put them into a daze before running away himself, his mind panicing.

Zenia had known and had decided her only choice was the burn them all alive? That hardly made sense, but then hardly anything made sense of late. 

Muriel was coming out from the library when Asra hurried toward him, Julian seemingly unconscious over his shoulder, “Where’s Zenia?”

Asra stopped for a moment, thinking. He had to save Zenia now, if she was without grasp of saving, but he didn’t have time now for this. “Take him up to Count Lucio’s room and leave him there.”

“What’s happening, Asra?”

“Zenia’s set the Count on fire, now hurry, and get back to the cabin as soon as you can!” Asra said hurriedly before hurrying out on to the lawn as the panic started.

Nadia hurried down the corridor, “Everyone out, quickly now, there’s a fire in the palace!” she called in a calm voice, opening doors to ensure that no one would be left in to be hurt. Asra hurried down the menagerie hall and though the secret door there to find Zenia sprawled out on the stone veranda. 

He stopped short at the sight of her, his whole person feeling so suddenly empty. It was as if he saw the world through a pane of glass set in front of his eyes. He couldn’t stop himself from slowly walking toward her.

The black silk of her dress spread out like a delicate fan and her hair was the perfect cloud of night behind her head. It wasn’t until he was close that he realized her hair was wet with blood from a head wound. Her leg lay out in an angle that looked wrong and his stomach stirred suddenly realizing what he was looking at.

Her black eyes gazed up at the sky, unseeing under her dark lashes, and if he focused only on her face, she was thinking carefully of some long retort.

He fell to his knees beside her and scooped her up in his arms, trying to pull her spirit back into her, and almost felt something coming back when he head the bootfalls on the stone. Asra stared hopelessly at Julian as he ran, staring.

“No,” Julian cried over and over, dropping beside them, and grasping at Zenia’s face in his hands, “Zenia… wake up, my love.” He rubbed his thumbs against her cheeks, shaking her gently, “Zenia…” Tears streamed down his fine cheeks and he pressed his forehead against hers, “No.”

“There’s nothing that can be done, Ilya, you have to get out of here,” Asra said, trying to find the words that she would have wanted him to hear, what was it he needed now?

“Why was I in the tower?” Julian asked, confused, “I shouldn’t have been there. Was I trying to save her?”

Asra looked at Julian, knowing that Zenia would want him to get out of the city, and that it needed to happen now. He reached out and touched Julian’s cheek, as if to comfort him, “Forget it all, now. Forget this night, and forget her.”

Julian straightened suddenly, getting to his feet, “I have to get free of here…”

“Yes,” Asra said, nodding, “Take the gate you may make it out alive.”

Julian hesitated, the spell rattling in his brains, as his eyes scanned absently over the woman in Asra’s arms, “I’m sorry for your friend. She was always so nice.” He hurried away suddenly as if remembering something. 

It jarred Asra, the realization of the devil’s bargain he had made to save her, not even sure he could. He would do whatever it took, but now he had to get her to Mazelinka’s house. He could work there, he scanned the crowd looking for Muriel. He couldn’t carry Zenia alone.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, the last chapter. I've borrowed some dialog from chapter one of the Arcana Visual Novel.  
> I'm playing with the idea of writing a modern AU for these characters, or at least a few more one shots. Let me know what you all think.  
> Thank you to CrimsonLibertiyBloodandFreedom and ZephyrOnTheWind for their new comments! Thank you to all of the readers!  
> Enjoy!

Asra banged at Mazelinka’s door, eager to get Zenia seen to as quickly as he could. She had made her deal with Aldus, and if Julian was captured, it would fall to them to save him again, regardless of Zenia’s health, or lack there of.

Mazelinka opened the door, furiously as she stared at Zenia’s body in Asra’s awkwardly open arms, “What in the world has happened here?”

“I need to work on her, and I couldn’t think of a safer place,” Asra explained, going to the small bedroom at Mazelinka’s heels as she started fluffing the pillows to support Zenia’s head, “I think I can save her.”

“Where is the doctor, then?” Mazelinka asked, gripping her shawl against her. Her knobby hands shook in fury and fear.

“He’s gone, wanted for setting that fire up at the palace.”

“He wouldn’t leave her,” Mazelinka glared, steely eyed at Asra, “What did you do?”

Asra didn’t answer, pressing his hands to Zenia’s temples, trying to pull her soul back into her. It was close by he could feel it. He was sure he could pull it back, and he felt her spirit coming to his hands, and he stooped slowly down to breath her life back into her. She didn’t stir, but she breathed shallowly. Asra pressed his hand over her brow, and felt for her. There was something missing in her soul, he knew, likely her memories. Trauma was hard on a spirit whether in a body or not, and he held back a bit of her in the tips of his fingers. 

Asra stood and dipped his fingers into some water, and almost smiled as it turned a shimmery periwinkle, “Can I have a bottle or something to put this in?”

Mazelinka shoved a jar at him, roughly, “Now speak.”

“They will be safe, but they will likely never see each other again. In a way I think it’s what they both would want,” Asra said. He knew the certainty of his words, for they each would have died for the other, but this would see it so that they would both live and be safe, “If the doctor never comes back, he will not likely know what Zenia did for him, but if they are together, it will drive him mad.”

“Zenia set the fire?”

“It was an accident, I think, but he would take the blame for her,” Asra looked at Mazelinka pleadingly, “If Zenia ever wakes, there will be a hole in her memory, and I will do my best to patch it.”

Mazelinka dropped into her seat, “Will she remember me, or you?”

“I don’t know, but if you meet her ever after, you must do your best not to confuse her or upset her. Until I know what to do, anyway.”

“And the Doctor? Where is Julian?”

“If all went as planned, he should be on a ship out of the city. He won’t remember her, and he can go off and start a new life somewhere far away,” Asra looked at the small doorway through which he could just see Zenia, “I’ll take her home in the morning. She’ll need a few days to rest, but I’ll keep her at the shop.”

“Are you sure?”

Asra started to say immediately yes, but then realized that she wasn’t questioning his taking Zenia on, but if he was certain that he had made the right choice. Even if he wasn’t certain, he liked to think that he had handled it all well enough. He nodded, realizing something would have to be done about Nadia too. The three people he loved would have to forget all about him, and each other.

“There’s nothing else that can be done anymore,” he realized that he would have to start a long life then comprised of keeping secrets from everyone. Zenia would never know where she had come from, or how long they had known each other.

He stood and slowly went to take the silver ring from her finger, and slid it into a pocket of his vest, looking over her tenderly. He pulled the sheets over her, and lay down on the floor next to her to sleep.

0x0x0

Two Weeks Later

Zenia looked over the news pamphlet for the day, sipping her tea, and gasped, “My goodness!”

Asra looked up from his book, “What?”

“Doctor Jules has escaped!” she held the pamphlet out for him to read, “My goodness, are our prisons not able to keep such murders in prison?”

“You’re the one that would have the money lenders in,” Asra teased, looking over the page. There was a woodblock illustration of Julian, staring smugly out at them, his face as finely made as ever, but adorned now with an eye patch. As if he hadn’t been piratical enough as was. 

“They’re absolute sharks,” Zenia pursed her lips, “and they ought be treated as such. Do you think they’ll catch him?”

“I doubt it,” Asra tried not to smile. Aldus had kept his promise after all, and everything might work out after all. Zenia adjusted her glasses on her nose, and she looked out the window at the early morning foot traffic. She had been doing this more lately as if she meant to write herself a life story from what she saw through that window.

“It’s awful anyway,” she said.

“What?”

“They were going to hang him, weren’t they? My god I can’t even imagine. I heard they built the gallows low so the drop wouldn’t kill him.”

“Well, they won’t have much use for it now,” Asra smirked, “Did you do your reading? Let’s review.”

0x0x0

Three Years Later

Julian had every now and then dropped in to visit with Asra, though he didn’t know what it was that kept bringing him back here. He came in through the back door as he always did and had expected the magician to be sitting up with his book and his tea, but the only person sign of life in the backroom that served as the parlor was his little apprentice shop-girl. 

He had spied on her in secret a few times now, and always felt a little awkward that he was standing there in the shadows behind the shelves watching her. But there was something about her that calmed him that he couldn’t quite name. She played her balalaika so beautifully, though imperfectly, as if she was still learning, which to some extent she was. She had improved a great deal since the last time he had heard her play.

He had never spoken to her, but he had some faint recollection of her in Asra’s arms badly hurt. He had been relieved somehow when she had appeared without any damage.

There was a knocking at the shop door, and Julian stilled in the shadows to the dark room as Zenia set aside her balalaika and got up to answer the door, pushing the door to the backroom almost closed but not quite. He had some primordial urge to protect her even as he knew it was absurd. 

He peered through the slit of the door opening as the Countess entered. He was suddenly realized that he could have been seen at any point, and while the people of the city seemed to adore him, it would only take one to put everything at risk. He had put Asra and this girl at risk.

He watched quietly as the shop-keep read the tarot cards for the Countess, and as the Countess rose to leave, inviting the young woman to come to the palace and help her with something. He watched as the shop-keep closed the door behind the Countess, checking that the lamp by the door was out and carefully bolted the door behind her.

“Strange hours for a shop to keep,” Julian said from behind the door as the woman started back to the room. He watched trying not to enjoy sneaking up on her, but it felt like a game they must have played before, “Behind you.”

As Zenia rounded on him, her eyes widened as she took in the shape of his mask.

“Sources say this is the witch’s lair. So who might you be?”

She lifted her hands a small ball of fire forming between her palms and she tossed it at him. He laughed dodging it, “So he’s taught you a few tricks. Unfortunately I’ve seen them all!” He frowned suddenly as he saw her swing a bottle at his head, knocking his mask to the floor. She lunged forward pressing a knife against his throat. He looked up at her, smirking a little. She was feisty. He liked that, “You do have guts then,” he smiled, glancing down, trying to see the blade she had pulled out, “Oh, hello, darling…”

She started back, aghast at the face that had been in all the news leaflets, “Doctor Jules?”

“I haven’t heard that name in years,” his smirk hardened into a snarl as he remembered the name, “Quickly now where is the witch?”

“I’ll never talk,” she crossed her arms in front of her chest. There was something about her that struck him. Something about the way her hip shifted up and her head tilted to the side. 

“I, uh, thought you might say that,” he said, trying to save face. He had a sudden wave of certainty come over him that there was no way he could make her do anything she didn’t want to, “Well no sense in wasting a visit then, is there? You’re a fortune-teller, aren’t you? Tell my fortune and I’ll leave you in peace.”

He crossed to the small room where they did their reading, and dropped his long elegant frame into a chair, leaning forward over the table. He always felt like there was something about her that he should know better. 

He just wanted to look at her, even as she turned the card over and pronounced the word, “Death.”

It made him laugh, his face softening, “You’ve got to be joking.”

Zenia leapt up, the knife back in her hand as his own pounded the table in laughter.

“Death cast her gaze on this wretch and turned away. She has no interest in an abomination like me,” he rose to his feet, and started for the door before remembering his manners. He bowed respectfully to her, “You’ve been hospitable to me, so I’ll let you in on a secret. Your witch friend will be back for you. He’s taught you his tricks. You may even say that he cares for you. But when he returns,” Julian put his mask back on, trying to collect his thoughts for a moment, remember what he was doing, maybe even get a grip. 

“Seek me out, for your own sake. That creature is far more dangerous than you know. Well then, the hour is late and I’m out of time.” He unbolted the door and started out into the mist, something inside his chest tugging him back to look at her again, “Don’t let him fool you, shop-keep.” 

He realized as he closed the door behind him that he didn’t even know her name. Asra had spoken about her as his apprentice, but had never said her name. He didn’t know what to call her, but he had to get away from her, and it was better that he didn’t know her at all. Knowing him would only put her in danger. He lingered outside listening to the melancholy, lilting sound from her small instrument, muffled through the walls of the shop, trying not to feel as though he was missing something so terribly important. Something he would never be able to get back.


End file.
